


Too Late

by PhilTrashNo164



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilTrashNo164/pseuds/PhilTrashNo164
Summary: Phil gets a girlfriend. And everything goes to shit.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first Dan and Phil fic. I'd like to take a moment to say "Don't read this, read 'When You Gonna Realise' by The_Blonde, instead", because it's amazing. I was kinda inspired by their writing style. Seriously, check it out.

**February 2018**

Exercise never ends well. Even something as seemingly innocuous as answering the doorbell - yes, that counts as exercise - can result in grave consequences, particularly if your name is Dan. The universe appears to bear a grudge against the Daniels of this world. Damned and doomed as he is, Dan is still trying to be a good flatmate, but, when he goes to answer the doorbell, what does he get for it?

A girlfriend, apparently.

Or, rather, Phil’s.

‘Cause here she is, on their doorstep, and _damn_ , ‘cause up until now he’s almost been able to convince himself that she doesn’t exist. What you don’t see can’t hurt you, and all that. He debates shutting the door in her face, pretending it’s just a cold caller, going back to blissful ignorance, but her face lights up when she sees him, god knows why, her face that clearly must have attracted Phil, and, yeah, okay, she’s pretty, all long hair and freckles, but, like-

And now he’s being pulled in for a hug. Fantastic.

She smells like vanilla.

How the hell did Phil manage this? Somehow, Phil’s gone and accomplished the fucking impossible. He’s gone and gotten himself a goddamn girlfriend. Dan could try and ignore the situation for a little longer, but here she is, so now he’s just gotta accept it, hasn’t he?

He gives her one single, tentative pat on the back, and waits for her to un-throw her arms from around his neck. She’s babbling something about how great it is to meet him, and how Phil’s told her so much about him, and it’s not like he can exactly return the favour, ‘cause that would be a lie - Phil’s told him fucking nothing, thanks for that, Phil (but then again it’s not like Dan even _wanted_ to learn more about her) - and apparently he can’t even say “Hi’, either, or “You interrupted our mid-morning anime-binge”, or indeed anything at all, and wow, isn’t he being really fucking rude, but he can’t help it. It’s the social anxiety, it’s just “classic Dan” being awkward and unfriendly, it’s-

“Dan! Aren’t you going to invite her in? Sorry about him!”

Dan starts, mumbles a bunch of unfinished sentences, and next thing he knows he’s being pushed aside, the door’s being shut, and she’s hugging Phil -

Phil, who’s styled his hair into that bed-head quiff, what the actual fuck, Phil, who’s wearing some fancy shirt Dan’s never seen before, and, oh god, she must really mean something to him, and doesn’t that just sting -

Wait, is she holding a _suitcase_?

“Why didn’t you tell me she was staying round?”

The words are out before he even thinks about them, and great, now he sounds like Phil’s keeper, or some shit like that, but seriously, shouldn’t Phil tell him these kinds of things? It’s not like he needs Dan’s permission, exactly, ‘cause Phil is 31, not 13, and anyway, Dan doesn’t remember ever telling him not to do something (except steal Dan’s cereal), but… it’s the _principle_ of things.

Phil shoots him what Dan imagines is an apologetic look. “I… kind of assumed you’d be okay with it?… aren’t you?”

Of course he fucking isn’t.

“I…” Dan swallows. “...Of course. Just… would have liked to have been told, that’s all. So I could, like, make other plans. I don’t want to get in the way-”

“Oh, you won’t!” she exclaims, and, uh, yes he will, if he stays in this building he’s going to do everything he goddamn can to keep things between Phil and... Sasha… her name is Sasha... as platonic as fucking possible, ‘cause the alternative makes him throw up in his mouth a little, and he doesn’t feel like thinking about why that might be, not right now, not when Phil’s picking up Sasha’s suitcase, her suitcase that’s pastel pink and as small and cute as she is (and there Dan goes throwing up a little more) and, oh god, is Phil going to carry it up to his bedroom, are they going to share his bed, and Dan’s practically vomiting all over the floor right now, but then Sasha asks Phil to put it in the spare bedroom, and Dan thinks, _uh, Sasha, you have legs, you know_ , and then everything’s going to be okay, ‘cause if he can focus on the sarcasm then that detracts from the sick feeling in his stomach.

He needs to _chill out_.

Phil goes to carry Sasha’s suitcase upstairs, and Dan takes a moment to wipe his sweaty brow, whilst studiously avoiding eye-contact with either of them. She’s only been here a minute and a half, tops, and he’s already hyperventilating, god, and anyway, what’s it to him if two adults want to share a bed? Sure, they’ve only been together a month, but, hey, maybe they had sex on the first date, who’s he to ju-

He finds himself not wanting to continue that train of thought, but that’s totally normal. Who wants to imagine their best friend having sex?

Sasha taps him on the shoulder, and they enjoy a brief and entirely one-sided chat about how much she loves his new video (“Oh, thanks,” he says through gritted teeth, and then declines to continue the conversation), and then Phil comes back down and invites her into the kitchen for some cake, and oh, that explains its presence in the house, and they go through to the kitchen and Dan just stands in the hallway, cause, like he said, he needs to chill the fuck out already.

Chill out... or _get out_? Yeah, that sounds like a better idea. There’s got to be something on at the cinema - not that he’d be able to focus on the film, but he can sure as hell try.

“Dan?” Phil calls from the kitchen. “Do you want some cake?”

“It’s really good!” Sasha says, and Dan thinks, _like your recommendation means anything to me_ , and then he thinks, _god, I need to stop being such a dick_.

“No, thanks!”

“Okay! We’re about to watch some Buffy, do you want to join us?”

He should say something jokey, something like “Phil! Don’t try and make her compete with Sarah Michelle Gellar!”, but all he manages is “Actually, I’m going off to see a film. Have lunch without me. We have leftover stir fry.”

He doesn’t even grab a jacket for the cold February air, and he’s out the door before Phil can voice any protestations. If Phil _has_ any protestations. Dan imagines he’s secretly glad to have the flat to himself.

Later, when Phil asks him about the film, over Chinese takeaway and more anime, when Sasha’s busy taking a nighttime shower (she doesn’t like Chinese food - isn’t that a red flag?), Dan can only parrot the synopsis from the Odeon website. Phil looks at him with a curious expression, ‘cause Dan is kinda known for ranting about hidden subtexts and cultural references and choices of casting, but this time he wasn’t paying enough attention, doesn’t care enough to go off on one. If he’s a little subdued, Phil doesn’t mention it. If Phil’s got this happy-buzz about him, Dan doesn’t mention it.

Sasha’s scarf is left hanging on one of the coat hooks. Dan tries to not feel irrationally angry at the sight of it.

*

He awakes far too early to a strange smell, stumbles downstairs, goes into the kitchen to check it’s still standing, finds Phil… finds Phil-

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Phil jumps, lets out a little yelp. “Dan! You scared me!”

Dan rolls his eyes. There’s something suspiciously green in the frying pan.

“Sasha’s a vegan,” Phil says, eyes fixed on the (what looks like an?) avocado (who fries _avocado_?). “Remember when you tried that-”

“Yes, yes yes yes,” Dan interrupts, “but what the hell are you doing? We have _toast_ , Phil.”

“I wanted to make her something nice,” Phil says, in a small voice.

Dan holds back a sigh. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” he says, tone softer now.

Phil looks up at that, gives him a small smile. Dan moves past him to make some tea, notices Phil’s already made two cups, goes to pick one up and then twigs it’s probably not meant for him, holds back another sigh, and goes about making some for himself. They fall into a kinda-awkward silence. Dan has so many questions. Questions like _how long have you been looking for a girlfriend, why were you looking for a girlfriend, why haven’t you properly told me about her, are you ashamed of me, I thought things were fine as they were, was I not enough for you-_

but to voice them would make him sound needy, clingy, desperate, all things he’s fully aware are part of his DNA, but he would like to pretend weren’t, if that’s at all possible.

“So,” Dan says, and then doesn’t finish the sentence.

Phil blinks at him. “So? So- so what?”

“...What’s her job?” He finishes, dumbly. _Wow, fascinating topic of conversation, Dan_.

Phil stops frowning at the avocado, visibly brightens. “She’s a YouTuber, just like us!”

“ _What_?”

Perhaps Phil doesn’t notice the horror in Dan’s voice, doesn’t notice how Dan nearly drops his fucking tea in surprise, because his smile just gets wider. “Yeah, how cool is that! She’s a ‘beauty guru’ - don’t tell her I said that, she hates that term - but she’s thinking of branching out into ‘weirder’ stuff, whatever that means.” He releases what Dan can only describe (whilst throwing up, the sickness is back now, oh boy is it back) as a _dreamy sigh_. “It’s so nice to be with someone who understands the job, you know?”

“I understand your job,” Dan says, almost unable to believe Phil’s being this tone deaf.

Phil has the audacity to _laugh_ at that. He spoons the avocado onto some plates, peers into one of the cupboards and gets out a bottle of soy sauce. “Yeah, but, like, _Dan_. You’re my best friend, and it’s great that we both do YouTube... I’m just looking for that in a partner, too.”

Dan realises that all of his replies to that are some variation of “But aren’t I enough for you?”, and he resolves from that moment on to try and get a life outside of Phil, because this really can’t be healthy.

He watches Phil attempt to artfully dot some soy sauce onto the avocado. It works for the second one - that’ll be Sasha’s, then. “That’s looking good,” Dan says eventually, and Phil gives him that special, adorable, tongue-poking-out-from-between-his-teeth smile. “I-” Dan begins, unsure of what he actually wants to say. “Uh, I-”

“Morning guys!” Sasha walks into the kitchen, hair pretty much still perfectly braided, fluffy dressing gown on, wearing glasses that kind of match Phil’s, and, okay, that’s Dan’s cue to leave. Is there another film on? “Smells great in here, have you been cooking?”

“Phil has, he’s been slaving away, especially for you,” Dan says, at the same time as Phil mumbles “Uh, it’s nothing, just, thought you’d maybe like, uh, yeah?”

Sasha gives Phil a kiss on the cheek. Phil turns pink. Dan fights the urge to throw up all over her sodding avocado.

“Got any plans for today then?” He tries to keep his voice light.

“Phil’s taking me to the zoo!” Sasha exclaims, like he’s taking her to the moon or some shit like that. She takes the plate of avocado off of Phil, pops a piece delicately into her mouth.

“Wow, the zoo…”

Phil, who hasn’t touched his breakfast yet, gives Dan what looks like a nervous smile. “It’s a good idea, right?”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to blink. Why is Phil asking his opinion? If he’d wanted his opinion, he could have asked earlier. Now, if Dan shoots it down, he’ll look like a Grinch.

“...Sounds great,” he says. “Obviously, the llamas are my favourite.”

Sasha laughs like he’s said something hilarious. Despite himself, he finds it kind of flattering. She seems to genuinely like him, which has to be a good thing. As for what he feels about her… well, she’s nice enough. Whether she’s right for Phil or not, he’s still unsure, but his gut says no.

 _You’d say no to anyone that wasn’t you_ , says a voice in his head. Dan tries to ignore it.

“What are you doing today, Dan?” Sasha asks, and then exclaims (before he can even open his mouth) “God, this is amazing! Phil, you never said you could cook!”

“Have you seen our baking videos?” Dan says, and Sasha just throws her head back and laughs.

*

Whilst they’re out having fun, Dan wastes half an hour trying to find Sasha’s YouTube channel, before giving up and texting Phil to ask. It turns out to be called _Sasha Stevens_. Of course.

She’s just as happy and bubbly on-camera as she is in real life. Dan watches her, in a succession of videos, get foundation in her eye, mascara on her nose, lipstick on her teeth, all done in an - he supposes - adorable, quirky way. Ugh. He clicks onto a “Q&A” video, posted two months ago. Went to beauty school, lives in London, lives off soya lattes, has a cat called Sprinkles, blah blah blah…

What are they doing now? Are they holding hands? Kissing? Why does he care?

 _She’s going to become more important to him than you, if she isn’t already_ , his brain whispers. Dan feels a headache coming on.

He makes a half-hearted attempt at editing a video that really should have been up last week, half-assedly scrolls through his “Internet Support Group” emails, makes himself some too-strong ribena, and finally thinks _oh, sod it_ , and texts Louise. She’ll be busy with Pearl, but she’s the person who gives the sort of advice that he really needs right now.

**Phil has a girlfriend. This bothers me.**

Maybe he should have started with _hi_ , but he can’t be bothered to be pussyfooting around the real issue. Ten minutes and two ribenas later, Louise replies:

**Oh, Dan. Have you talked to him about it?**

Dan just stares at his phone. _Talked_ about it? Talked to _Phil_ , about his new _girlfriend_ , his girlfriend that apparently he doesn’t want to tell Dan anything about?

 **Not an option** , he says.

**Dan…**

**I don’t know why it bothers me.**

**Really? I think I might have an idea. Don’t laugh.**

**I promise I won’t.**

Louise doesn’t reply straight away.

When she does, true to his word, Dan doesn’t laugh.

**Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think... you might have... feelings for Phil?…**

**...Dan? I didn’t mean to upset you?**

**Dan?**

*

_AmazingPhil has uploaded a new video: My Day At The Zoo!_

*

“Dan? Is… is everything OK?”

Dan forces himself to meet Phil’s eyes. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

Phil doesn’t reply immediately. He chews on a piece of popcorn, pauses the anime. Dan doesn't protest. He wasn’t watching it anyway. Phil’s staring at the bowl of popcorn when he says “You’ve been acting… kinda, _off_ , lately.”

Dan shrugs. “Must be coming down with something. Maybe you picked up llama-rabies at the zoo and gave it to me.”

Phil laughs, but it sounds kinda forced. “You-”

Dan mentally fills in the rest of the sentence. “You’re a terrible friend”, “You’re ruining my life”, “You’re just too _much_ , Dan-”

“-you, you like Sasha, right?”

“...She’s nice enough,” is all he can bring himself to say. “Does she make you happy? That’s the important thing.”

Phil doesn’t speak for a moment, turns his eyes to the paused anime, resolutely ignores Dan’s gaze. “I… I was thinking of doing a collab video? With her? A kind of ‘Sasha-does-my-makeup’ type thing?”

“The internet’s got a lot to say about you and her,” Dan says, after a beat. He puts on a high-pitched, girly voice. “‘Oh, they’re so cute together’, ‘Are they dating? I ship it!’ ‘I wonder how Dan feels about this?’”

“Dan-”

“You’re going to have to make it official at some point.” He tries to loosen his grip on his laptop, tries to keep his voice level. “It’ll upset the Phan shippers.”

“...Dan?”

“Oh, why don’t you just go and replace me, already?”

Phil’s staring at him like he’s lost his mind, but he can’t stop now. “Sod the gaming channel, sod “Interactive Introverts”, sod our branding, sod fucking everything. You two look good together, in a couple of months our fans will have forgotten about me. I’ll- I’ll go and become a piano teacher, or something.”

“I didn’t know you felt this-”

“No, you didn’t, and you know why? Because you didn’t ask. I know nothing about her. Where did you two meet? How did you meet? Don’t answer that, because I don’t actually care. But, you know, it would have been nice, as your best friend, to have been told about her. If I ever bring a girlfriend, boyfriend-”

(Phil’s eyes widen on “boyfriend”. They’ve never talked about Dan’s sexuality, though Phil’s probably had his assumptions. Well, this isn’t the time for that conversation)

“- whatever, back here, you’ll be the first to know, because that’s what best friends do, okay? I- I…” He runs out of steam, pathetically. Phil’s looking at him like he’s never seen him before.

“You… you get jealous, Dan. I didn’t want you to….”

Dan’s not listening. “You want to _collaborate_ with her? Well, be my fucking guest, but she’s probably only with you to boost her subscriber count-”

“ _Dan_.”

Phil’s voice is dangerous. Phil never gets mad. But Dan’s gone and crossed a line. But he can’t bring himself to apologise.

“I think I love her.” And, just like that, Phil’s anger is gone. He’s looking at Dan, imploring him to understand. It’s not that Dan doesn’t understand. It’s that he doesn’t _want_ to understand.

“I… I need some time to… process everything,” Dan says. “I’ll… find somewhere to stay-”

“To _stay_? Is it really that bad?”

It’s Dan who keeps his eyes away from Phil’s this time, ‘cause he can’t be doing with that kicked-puppy expression.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

“...It sounds like we’re breaking up, or something,” Phil says after a beat. Neither of them laugh.

After a minute or two, Dan reaches over and puts the anime back on. Phil keeps shooting him sad looks, so he’s clearly not paying attention to the show, and neither is Dan, but they don’t address it. The more they talk, the closer Dan comes to saying something he’ll regret, even if he’s not sure what that something is.

Louise’s text plays on his mind. Like everything else, he tries to ignore it.

*

He’s in the early morning Starbucks queue two days later when he thinks, ah, fuck it, and sends the message, just a simple, noncommittal:

**Hey.**

Early morning, because he can’t sleep, for many reasons (all of which involve Phil), and Starbucks, because the flat has been far too silent, (though him and Phil have been exchanging looks that say a thousand words) so much so that he’s actually been craving the crowded, noisy atmosphere of a coffee shop. “Caramel Macchiato,” he says, out of habit, and then hates himself even more than normal. Two minutes later he sits down with his drink, checks his phone. No new messages.

That message had been saved in his drafts since that night, since “The Conversation With Phil”. It’s fairly inoffensive, or so he hopes. He’d kinda hoped for an immediate reply. Isn’t everyone glued to their phones these days? Now, Dan would never say it to his face, but he’d kinda been under the impression that Chris didn’t, like, ever leave the house. But then again, that was just speculation. He hasn’t heard from him in months. Maybe Chris has a job now, maybe he was at work. Maybe he was on a date. Well, good for him, right?

Why message Chris, of all people? Well, Dan feels like he’ll understand what Dan’s been going through. It’s no secret that Chris was in love with PJ. Is still in love with him, whatever. Dan’s not in love with Phil, he’s definitely _not_ in love with Phil, but it’s the same sort of situation, right?

Him and Chris have never been anything more than “business partners” to each other, and he feels a little selfish to be messaging Chris like this, but Chris can always say no. Dan just hopes he doesn’t.

Half an hour passes. The barista’s shooting him dirty looks, so he orders a latte, and, in a moment of weakness, a croissant. He drinks the latte in tiny sips and tears the croissant into tiny pieces, but, after another thirty minutes, admits defeat, and gets up to leave. As he’s putting on his coat, his phone buzzes. He checks it and winces.

**You still have my number? Wow.**

And then:

**Hey, I guess. Uh, you need something?**

Dan thinks of a way to reply that isn’t ass-kissing, or blatantly lying, but also isn’t just _yes, I’m only contacting you because it’s convenient for me._

**Me and Phil had an argument.**

**Phil and I. Whatever.**

“Argument” probably isn’t the best way of putting it, but he’s not sure what is, so he leaves it at that. They’ve been reacting to it like it was an argument, anyway.

~~**Can I, like, stay round?** ~~

No. That’s too blunt. There’s got to be a better way to phrase it-

Another message comes through:

**Trouble in paradise? Did he steal your cereal again? I don’t know why he does it, your cereal’s shit.**

Dan huffs out a laugh. He’s missed Chris’s sense of humour, if he’s honest. It’s a shame they lost touch.

Not that he’d done anything to prevent it. Guilt swirls in his stomach, but he tries to push the feeling aside. He puts his phone in his back pocket and heads to the Tube. Rush hour’s still on, so he types out a message squished up against the door:

**It’s complicated. Can I… stay round yours for a bit? Phil and I are kinda not talking.**

He waits ten minutes, long enough for the Tube journey to be over, and he’s just entered the flat (which thankfully has no sign of an “awake” Phil - it is only half 8, after all), when Chris replies:

**Damn. Do you want to, uh, talk about it? Also, *dude*. You do know I’m back to living with my parents, right? I mean, you’re totally welcome, but, you know... I call my room the “Depression Cave” for a reason.**

**Also. I liked your video, the one on depression. Idk if you’ve noticed, but I’m kinda depressed too. It was a good video. I kinda wanted to make a response, but then I thought, oh, who gives a fuck?**

Dan’s not sure what to say to that. He goes for the kinda ass-kissing option.

**I’m sure your video would be great. We could collab?**

**I don’t want to talk about me and Phil, at least not yet, if that’s OK. I… yeah. I’ll explain later. It’s just stupid, really. All my fault.**

Chris is quicker at responding this time. He doesn’t mention Dan’s offer.

**It has to pretty bad if you want to go all the way to fucking Harrogate. I’ll say it again, my place really isn’t anything to write home about. You sure you wouldn’t prefer a hotel?**

**Also, why aren’t you staying with PJ? He’s nearer. And more a friend to you than I’ve ever been.**

**I’m flattered that you’ve contacted me, don’t get me wrong. But it’s kinda weirding me out.**

Dan can appreciate that. He can’t really explain why he’s talking to Chris himself, but it has something to do with an innate feeling that Chris will _understand_ him in a way that PJ and Louise can’t. Plus, Louise is busy with her new baby, and he doesn’t want to be a third wheel around PJ and Sophie, so that just kinda leaves Chris, really. And Harrogate is an ideal location: far away, not associated with Phil. Wow, he sounds like a bad friend.

 **It would be nice to catch up** , is all Dan says in response. He shrugs off his coat, heads up to his room, sits cross-legged on the bed.

Chris texts back: **I’ve been *so* productive, you wouldn’t believe. When do you want to come round?**

~~**There’s a train that leaves in half an hour** ~~

Dan deletes that message. Wow, that sounds far too eager. He glances at his empty, but open, waiting, suitcase, the suitcase that’s been in his room for two days now, and thinks, _I’ve never been too good at not being eager._

He hasn’t told Phil he plans to stay round Chris’s, but then Phil’s kept everything about Sasha to himself, so a Post-It note is all he deserves, really. He messages Chris:

**I’ll be with you around 1? If you’re free?**

The reply comes through instantly. **You don’t have to pretend I have a social life, or any kind of life at all. Joking… I’ll get some Archers - don’t pretend you like beer.**

And then:

 **We might even have fun. Misery loves company**.

Dan stares at that last text for a long time.

*

He tortures himself on the train journey up by re-watching “My Day At The Zoo!” over and over. Sasha’s not explicitly in it, but she’s not explicitly out of it, either. All the comments are some variation of “WHO IS SHE??”, to which Dan can totally relate. He and Phil used to tell each other everything. Dan pauses the video, stares at Phil’s beaming face. What the hell _happened_?

“ _You get jealous, Dan_.” Like he’s not well fucking aware of that. But the more Phil hides from him, the more his mind is free to imagine what he doesn’t know. Maybe Phil’s planning to move into her place. Maybe she’s pregnant. Maybe they’re engaged, and maybe they’re going to elope, and then Dan will never hear from Phil again. Maybe maybe maybe….

There’s probably a universe where he’s totally happy for Phil, where he’s not at all insecure about what Sasha means for their (professional) relationship, maybe even a universe where he himself has a girlfriend and they go on super cute double dates, but this universe definitely isn’t it. In this universe, he reacts like a spoilt child, so unable to face facts that he fucking runs from the issue. Dan closes the YouTube app on his phone, leans back into his seat, feeling drained from it all.

Louise texted yesterday, an **are you OK?** and he hasn’t responded yet, because she can tell lies from a mile off.

At 10 o’clock Phil texts **are you OK?** too, and he doesn’t respond to that, either. The silence will tell Phil everything he needs to know. If he doesn’t like it, Phil can go cry to Sasha about it.

...God, when did he get so _bitter_ about everything?

Just last month, Dan was celebrating Phil’s 31st, with Hamilton and “you’re so _old_ , Phil, do I see a grey hair?” and a day out in London and red velvet cake, and everything was fine. Phil had a girlfriend, and Dan was blissfully unaware. Who’d known about Sasha before he did? Martyn, presumably. PJ? Louise? Another thing he doesn’t really want to know.

Phil texts again, a **see you soon, hopefully? We need to talk. And I don’t mean that in an “I’m mad at you” way. Just… tell Chris I say hi.**

Truth is, Phil’s just too good for him. Maybe some time away from Dan will make him realise that.

As the journey wears on, the sky darkens, and he enters Harrogate station to pouring rain. The moody teenager in him wants to make some comment about the weather reflecting his mental state. On the way to Chris’s house, a car speeds past, soaking him from the waist down.

February was always going to be a shit month.

*

“Welcome to ‘The Sex Mansion’,” Chris says, upon opening the door. Dan doesn’t walk inside just yet, too busy admiring the exterior of the house.

“Hey, it’s a nice place.”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “I guess? Not mine, though.” When Dan doesn’t say anything, he continues, “The parents are at work, my sister’s still at school, so, uh, it’s just us. You want lunch?”

“Please.”

They go through to the (very nice, open-plan) kitchen. Chris turns round so abruptly that they almost bump noses. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you, you know, with the curly hair. Looks good.”

“Thanks. You, uh, look good too?”

Chris breaks into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I showered just for you, Danny-boy. Now, my cooking repertoire is a bit limited, so… beans on toast?”

“Sounds great.”

They eat on the sofas in the lounge, because the dining table is “too formal”. Dan’s phone beeps a few times, but Chris thankfully doesn’t comment on it. There’s a surprisingly non-awkward silence as they eat, until Chris breaks it with a cheery “So, you’ve finally admitted you like dick? Don’t worry, things only go downhill from there.”

“Ck-ack-” says Dan, choking on his toast.

Chris pats him tenderly on the back. “I think she was actually trending on Twitter for a bit, that girl of his. She’s cute, sorry, I’ve gotta be honest. But then I guess to ‘some people’ -” he does air quotes, rolls his eyes “- you’re pretty cute, too. You’ve just gotta out-cute her.”

“She’ll take him away from me,” is all Dan says.

Chris’s expression flickers, darkens, and then he’s back to whatever fake-happy persona he wants to present to Dan. “Now, that’s a very negative attitude. What you need to do is take _him_ away from _her_.”

“But she makes him _happy_.”

Chris blows a raspberry, collects their empty plates and goes into the kitchen. “Tell me why you’re in love with Phil all of a sudden,” he calls.

“I’m not in lo-”

“You are.”

“Really, I-”

“Are too. I can play this game all day.”

Dan sighs. “Louise thought I was, too.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I do love him, but I think it’s just as a best friend. He said, and I already know, that I’m a ‘jealous’ person. I don’t think I actually want to, you know, date him.”

Chris walks back into the lounge. “Why did you want to come round, if it wasn’t to bond over the guys who broke our hearts?”

It’s said with a smile, with wide open arms, but there’s something vulnerable in Chris’s face. Dan thinks of deleted Tweets, of “Thanks, everyone, for ruining PJ and I’s friendship”, of deleted YouTube gaming streams, of “If you want The Fantastic Foursome, get into a fucking TARDIS”.

“Up to be beaten at Mario Kart?” is all Dan eventually says. He’s not quite ready for a heart-to-heart, and it doesn’t seem like Chris is either.

“You’re challenging a depressed nerd to Mario Kart? What do you think I’ve been doing with all this free time? Oh, you’re gonna get _wrecked_.”

They’re halfway through their… seventh? match when Chris’s sister comes home from school. She takes one look at Dan and exclaims “You have a friend round!”

Chris’s cheeks turn red, and he looks anywhere but Dan, and Dan thinks, _maybe I could try and help him out, too._

 

*

_You have three missed calls. Please dial 1-2-1 for voicemail._

*

**The flat’s kinda lonely without you, Dan. Please come back soon.**

*

**Daniel, you’ve given me a right scare! Phil says you’re fine, you’re talking things over with Chris. Good. Let me know if you need anything, OK?**

*

**Hey Dan, it’s Peej. I kinda heard it through the grapevine, but the grapevine said you’re not doing too good. I… Just keep Phil updated, OK? He loves you. ~~Even if it’s not the way you~~**


	2. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before Chris posted his latest video (“My cat has died”), but I don’t think that video drastically impacts the way I’ve written him. Glad you’re back, Chris!

**February 2018**

 

_ AmazingPhil has uploaded a new video: Weird Dreams I’ve Been Having Lately! _

 

*

_ “Dan? Are you wearing my jeans?” _

 

_ Dan looks down, and, yes, he is. How did that happen?  _

 

_ “You’re going to have to take them off, you know,” Phil says, and, yes, that makes complete sense, and Dan takes them off, right there in their hallway. Phil’s eyes don’t leave Dan’s face, something Dan is frustrated by. He blinks- _

 

_ -and now they’re in Phil’s bedroom, and Dan’s up against the wall, and Phil’s nipping at his neck, and it’s almost too much- _

 

_ * _

_ It’s just a dream _ , Dan whispers to himself in the early hours of the morning, waking up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house.  _ It doesn’t have to mean anything _ . Instead of more sleep, which would probably do him some good, he pulls out his phone, blinks against the brightness. 6 AM. Chris won’t be up yet. Dan trades thinking for watching - watching Phil’s new video, in particular - but his attention is only half on it.

 

_ I’m not in love with Phil. I can’t be. Surely - surely I’d know, if I was? _

 

He lies back on the bed, thinking, thinking, overthinking. Eventually, his thoughts calm down, and his mind drifts back to last night.

 

He'd been a right hit with Chris's mum. Not to brag, but Dan's always been the kind of guy girls are proud to take home to their parents. It's the articulate manner, the piano-playing (that always makes the mothers swoon), it's... probably just the dimples, actually. But, yeah, Chris's mum had loved him.

 

_ She'd insisted on sitting next to him whilst they ate their dinner (homemade lasagna - she’s a good cook), and then she’d taken every word he'd said and eaten it up, only stopped gazing at him to glance at her son with what Dan can only describe as "disappointment". It had made Dan quite uncomfortable, and he’d imagine that Chis hadn’t enjoyed it much either. The worst moment, for Dan and Chris alike, he suspects, was when she got him talking about his depression, and how he'd gotten over it.  _

 

_ "It's a life-long process," he'd said carefully. "I don't think there are any quick-fixes-" _

 

_ "Oh, I just wish Chris would try  _ something _ ," she'd exclaimed. "I mean, look at you, Dan, you're nicely dressed, you get up and about and do things with your day, you've got a successful career..." _

 

_ Chris hadn't risen to his own defence. Dan had tried, but she wasn't hearing any of it, so he'd had to watch as she listed all of Dan's achievements, with increasing volume, watch as Chris had gotten quieter and silenter in response.  _

 

_ "Is she always like this when you bring friends round?" Dan had asked later, as they were doing the washing up. _

 

_ "That's the whole point," Chris had said, with that too-cheery voice again. "I don't. Particularly ones as talented as 'Daniel Howell'."  _

 

_ "You're talented, too," he'd argued. _

 

_ Chris had shrugged. "Maybe once."  _

 

*

 

Next thing Dan knows, he’s being woken by a knock on his bedroom door. A single knock. How very  _ Chris _ . “Are you decent? You’re not one of those weirdos who sleeps naked, are you?”

 

Dan lets out a small laugh. “Give me a minute!” He sends off a couple of “don’t worry about me” texts to Louise and PJ, swings his legs out of bed, takes a deep breath and prepares for the day to come-

 

“I’m not usually up at this hour,” Chris says, barging in anyway. Dan checks the time: 11AM. Chris is wearing his own merch. Seeing Dan stare, he just shrugs. “What? No one else is buying it.” 

 

Dan isn’t sure what to say to that. After a beat, Chris says, “I, like, usually don’t go outside, but I thought we could… take a walk? Not, like, a long one?”

 

“I can’t think of anything better to do,” Dan says, and then realises how rude he sounds. “I didn’t mean tha-”

 

“It’s okay, I can’t either. Oh, if you’re going to wash your hair, use my sister’s shampoo. It smells so good. Just deny it if she finds out. I tried to eat it once - it tastes horrible, don’t do that. Do you like scrambled eggs?”

 

Dan thinks back to Phil frying the avocado, days ago. “I’ll stick with cereal, thanks.”

 

His phone beeps: Phil.

 

**_Good morning! Hope you slept well! Can you call me today?_ **

 

Why does Phil have to be so  _ nice _ ?   
  


 

He replies, not wanting to, but not wanting to leave Phil worrying, either:

 

**_I’ll call you after I take a walk. Still need to figure things out._ **

 

Phil responds instantly:  **_Take as long as you need, Dan._ **

 

*

 

“Things need to be sorted by April,” is the first thing Dan thinks to say, hands in pockets, as they start their walk around the Harrogate Ringway. “We’ll be on tour by then. Can’t tour if I can’t stand being in the same building as him.” 

 

“Maybe they’ll have broken up by then,” Chris suggests. “Maybe you just need to, you know, wait it out.”

 

“She’s…  _ changed _ things, between us. We need to get back to where we were before.”

 

“Were you happy?” 

 

“Of course,” Dan says, automatically. “Why wouldn’t I have been?”

 

Chris says nothing, but his eyes speak for him. Dan groans, hits him on the arm. “Come  _ on _ . If I was in love with him, I think I would have realised already.”

 

“Love works in mysterious ways, Daniel... So, c’mon, tell me about her.”

 

He shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. She- she does YouTube, like us.”

 

“Beauty guru?”

 

“How could you tell?”

 

“It’s just statistics. Most girls on YouTube are beauty gurus.”

 

Dan has to concede that this is true. “Phil says she wants to branch out, do ‘weirder stuff’. He wants to collaborate with her.”

 

“Uh oh,” Chris says. “Next thing you know, you’ll be walking him down the aisle-”

 

“I don’t think that’s how weddings work-”

 

“What was your gut feeling, when Phil first told you about her?”

 

“He didn’t,” Dan says. “We’ve never… talked about her? Ever? I don’t think he’s ever mentioned her name in my presence.” He laughs, though it’s far from funny.

 

“But how did you…?” Chris stops walking, gestures wildly. “Dates? How did he explain the dates?” 

 

“‘Oh, I’m just having lunch with a friend’, ‘I’m just going to a party’, that sort of thing. I didn’t suspect anything.”

 

“Wait, so he  _ lied _ to you? Wow, that’s… kinda fucked up.”

 

Dan’s thought about the lies. Of course he has. It’s just so unlike Phil to lie that he can’t really connect the lies with the man who uttered them. “I’m sure he had his reasons. He was probably worried I’d react badly - and I did, didn’t I?”

 

In the end, Dan had found out about Sasha by coming back early from a party, and overhearing a conversation Phil was having with his mum, a conversation that included the words “my girlfriend”. Phil still doesn’t know he overheard, but he must know that Dan knows something. Whatever happened to just talking about these things? When did that get so hard?

 

“PJ told me about Sophie over text,” Chris says, and then becomes very interested in staring at the ground.

 

Dan feels the need to tread carefully. “Oh? How did you...  _ feel _ ? About that?”

 

Chris snorts. “Fucking fantastic.”

 

“Sophie’s nice,” Dan says, and then realises how unsympathetic and generally unhelpful that comment is. “I-”

 

“It’s always worse when you can’t find anything against them,” Chris interrupts. “If she killed puppies in her spare time, then I might feel a bit better.”

 

“Do you still talk to PJ?”

 

Chris stiffens slightly, only for a second, but Dan’s watching him like a hawk, so it doesn’t go unnoticed. “I don’t really talk to anyone these days. Nothing against PJ in particular.”

 

“Are you, you know, getting help? You know, meds, a therapist?”

 

“I’m on my third type of medication.” He brings his arms up over his head, stretches, puts one leg out in front of him, leans on it, repeats with the other leg. Sometimes Dan wonders where the extroverted “actor” Chris ends, where the real Chris begins. “Third time’s a charm, theoretically.”

 

“I hope it works out for you.”

 

Chris meets his eyes for a second. Then he says, so quietly that Dan can hardly make out the words, “Me too.”

 

They argue about the homoerotic subtext in The Lego Batman Movie for the rest of the walk. 

 

*

Phil picks up on the second ring. “Dan?”

 

Dan’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing. 

 

“Did the walk help?” Phil sounds so hopeful, it breaks Dan’s heart. “Are you coming back soon?”

 

“Can’t.”

 

“Dan?”

 

_ Don’t say my name like that, please _ , Dan thinks.  _ You have no right. _

 

“Dan…we need to talk-”

 

He hangs up.

 

*

 

They’re 20 minutes and probably too much Archers into Anchorman when Chris says, “Hey, can I have your phone a second? I need to check the time.”

 

Dan hands it over, clocking as he does so the watch on Chris’s wrist. “Wait, hang on-”

 

Chris launches his phone behind the sofa. Dan only exhales when he doesn’t hear the sound of breaking glass. 

 

“You need to stop staring at that thing. It’s not doing you any good.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Dan protests. He’s not sure what to do with his hands now. He settles on clasping them together, like he’s at church, or some shit like that.

 

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’ve only been gone a day. He can survive without you, you know.”

 

“Stop pouting”, he adds a second later. 

 

“I just want him to text me,” Dan  whines says. 

 

Chris frowns. “You mean it wasn’t him sending you all those messages?”

 

_ But none of them said “we broke up” or “Dan, I only care about you, I realise that now,” _ Dan thinks, and, okay, so maybe he’s sounding a little lovesick, a little possessive, but  _ damn it _ , fuck if he can help it. 

 

“Ugh,” Dan says, like that answers everything. 

 

“Everything will be easier once you admit your true feelings,” Chris sing-songs. 

 

“Oh, ‘cause that worked out  _ so _ well for you, didn’t it?” Dan snipes. 

 

“...Do as I say and not as I do,” Chris says, after a beat. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dan says. Wow, is he on a mission to fuck up every relationship he has?

 

Chris waves a hand at him in dismissal. “You and Phil are too close for this girl to come between you,” he says. “Maybe you could hang out with her? You need to stop viewing her as competition.”

 

Dan tries to imagine him and Sasha in Starbucks, him with his caramel macchiato and her with her soya latte, bonding over… well, what else is there to bond over, but Phil, really? 

 

“Nyeh,” Dan says. But then he thinks,  _ fuck, what have I got to lose?  _ If this will bring his and Phil’s friendship back to normal, it must be worth a try. 

 

“I’ll think about it” he sighs. 

 

*

“This isn’t working.” 

 

Dan’s hovering in the doorway of Chris’s spare room, next to the camera. Chris is on the bed, head in hands. He’s being trying different introductions for the past five minutes. 

 

“My YouTube career is  _ dead _ ,” Chris says, from behind his hands. “Oh my god. I’m going to have to get a real job. I’ll have to work in Poundland for the rest of my life. Oh god…”

 

“Just be yourself,” Dan says, and, wow, he must be nominated for the most-useless-advice-ever award.

 

Chris holds his head up, looks at the camera. “Hi, I’m Chris Kendall, and I wish I was  _ dead _ .” He turns to Dan. “Better?”

 

“You, er… I… are you being serious?”

 

“Am I ever serious?” 

 

But there’s something there in Chris’s eyes. Maybe the camera won’t pick it up, but Dan can see it. 

 

“I think you need a script,” Dan suggests. “Trying to ad lib it is putting too much pressure on yourself.”

 

“I don’t even know what my channel  _ is _ , anymore,” Chris says. “Who am I? What sort of videos do I want to make?”

 

“You could interview me? About my depression?”

 

Chris stares at him blankly for a moment. “I… I don’t want to use you, for views.”

 

“You won’t be. It’ll be informative, it could help people.” Dan’s warming to the idea now. “C’mon, let’s try it.” He walks over, sits down on the bed next to Chris. 

 

“Hello internet,” Dan says, and then says “shit, wait, you should introduce me.”

 

Chris raises an eyebrow. “I think everybody knows who you are you already.”

 

“Introduce me.”

 

He sighs, but does so: “I’m here with Dani Snot On Fire - sorry, Daniel Howell - wow, look at that, we’re doing a collab, fuck… anyway, I’m here with him to actually make a useful video for once. As you can see from the title.” He turns to Dan. “So, when did you first realise that life was a crock of shit?”

 

Dan blinks a little at the bluntness, but runs with it. “I’d say university is what kicked it off. I was away from the home for the first time, away from friends, doing a degree I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to do, and… loneliness is the killer, really. I felt alone, and my mental health started declining.” He pauses, wonders if it’s worth mentioning Phil when it would become the main focus of the comments section, decides to do it anyway, “if it wasn’t for Phil, though, I think things would have gotten much worse.” 

 

“Friends are very important when you’re depressed,” Chris says, and Dan tries not to wince, wonders how Chris can say that without shooting Dan daggers for not being there for him. “A lot of people withdraw from social interaction when they’re depressed. I know I have done.”

 

Dan blinks again, ‘cause, is Chris about to open up now about his mental health, after a year of silence? 

 

But the spotlight’s back on Dan again. “What did Phil do that helped you in the worst stages of your depression?”

 

“He listened,” Dan says. “He didn’t try to convince me that I was thinking irrationally, he didn’t tell me to snap out of it, he was just there for me, and he let me vent it all out.” He turns to the camera. “So I’d say, if you’re trying to help a friend who’s in a similar situation, listening is one of the best things you could do, even if you don’t feel like it’s helping, trust me, it is…” 

 

“And how did-”

 

“I just need to send a text,” Dan interrupts, because the urgency of the situation is clawing at him, and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling, these memories, of Phil holding him whilst he cried in his shitty little room in university halls, of Phil consoling him over the phone and over Skype, Phil Phil Phil- 

 

**_Thank you for being there for me. When I was depressed. It meant, still means, a lot._ **

 

Once again, Phil’s reply is immediate:  **_I would have, and still would, do anything for you. And I mean that._ **

 

_ Except for break up with your girlfriend _ , Dan thinks, and then wonders why he has to see the negative in everything.

 

“Ready to start filming again?” Chris asks, and Dan puts his phone away, nods.

 

*

_ Crabstickz has uploaded a new video: A “Depressing” Interview With Daniel Howell!  _

 

*

 

Two days later (because he can’t keep avoiding it) Dan stands there, just staring at the door, wishing he’d timed his return for when Phil was out, ‘cause now for some reason the thought of their reunion is making him feel slightly ill. 

 

_ It’s just Phil _ , he tries to tell himself.  _ The same old Phil, same as he’s always been. Why is he suddenly so scary? _

 

It starts to rain, and that’s finally enough to get him to ring the doorbell. He’s practising some sort of hypno-breathing, like the kind Louise used when she was in labour with Pearl, and, really, he’s being ridiculous-

 

“Dan!”

 

And there Phil is, and Dan can’t speak. 

 

“I’ve missed you!” Phil exclaims, and then says, “come on in, you’re getting soaked!” and Dan does. He puts his suitcase down, takes off his shoes, takes off and hangs up his coat.

 

“Are you feeling OK? Are… are we OK?” Phil’s rubbing a hand down the back of his neck, and Dan’s read in some psychology magazine that that’s a sign a person is uncomfortable. Dan doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable, not anymore. 

 

He closes the gap between them, envelops Phil in a hug. Phil lets out a little squeak, but hugs Dan back. Hard. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dan says, at the same time as Phil says it, too. 

 

“I want to get to know her, let me meet her,” Dan says, as Phil says “I’m sorry I never told you about her, I-”

 

“What did you think would happen?” Dan whispers into Phil’s shoulder. “When you told me about her?”

 

Dan both feels and hears Phil sigh. Phil pulls back from the hug. “I thought... that it would make things real.”

 

“What? What do you mean?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil says, and Dan’s about to object, and say that, actually, that answer raises a hell of a bunch of questions, when he notices Phil is staring at him. In particular, at his mouth.

 

He feels his heart rate pick up. 

 

“Phil?”

 

And, just like that, Phil’s eyes are fixed on the wall in front of him, focused on a photo of him and Dan at Summer In The City last year. Dan tells himself he’s just imagining things.

 

“Lunch?” Phil says.

 

Dan, too dazed to do anything else, just nods.

  
  


*

 

After the hug, the apology, things appear to be going back to normal, something Dan is incredibly relieved about. They still don’t discuss Sasha, and Dan’s been turning Phil’s “make things real” comment over and over again in his mind and coming up blank, but for all intents and purposes things are as they used to be.

 

Dan’s been keeping in touch with Chris. Sometimes Chris won’t respond for hours and hours, and at other times he’ll immediately send a string of stream-of-consciousness messages that almost break Dan’s phone (he’s convinced it hasn’t been the same since Chris threw it down the back of the sofa). 

 

He’s on the phone to Chris, trying to arrange for him to come over (“you don’t want my ugly mug in your flat”, Chris is arguing), when he notices Phil standing in the doorway to his room. Dan points to his phone, trying to signal that he’s busy. In response, Phil points to his own mouth (does that mean “I want to talk to you?” wow, they really do suck at charades), so Dan says, “Sorry, be back in a minute,” and turns to Phil.

 

“Uh, hi,” Dan says. 

 

When Phil continues to wordlessly linger, he adds “everything OK?”

 

“You’re getting quite close to him,” Phil says, and Dan can’t quite read the expression on his face.

 

“Guess so. Is that… a problem?”

 

Phil sighs. “Just… don’t forget about me, OK?”

 

“Forget about - how could I - you’re not making any sense - Phil?”

 

Phil’s turning round, leaving Dan alone in his room. Dan puts the phone back up to his ear. “Uh, I’m back,” he says, and Chris must sense something in his voice, ‘cause he says “everything OK?”

 

“Phil’s acting weird.”

 

“He’s probably realised he’s deeply in love with you.”

 

Dan thinks back to Phil staring at his mouth. “Maybe,” he admits, unsure of how he feels about that being true.

 

*

 

“I want to meet her,” Dan says the next morning, as Phil comes stumbling sleepily into the kitchen. Dan tries to act like he hasn’t been hanging around the kitchen for the past 20 minutes waiting for Phil to come down, so that they can have this conversation.

 

“You have,” Phil says. He’s always kinda grumpy before coffee, but already this feels like something more. Dan doesn’t like it.

 

“I want to meet her properly, this time.”

 

He’s expecting Phil to call him out on his earlier Sasha-avoiding behaviour, accuse him of hypocrisy (though hypocrisy isn’t the right word, but it’s something along those lines) but all he says is “is that a good idea?”

 

Dan tries to hold Phil’s gaze, but he looks away, busies himself with the coffee maker.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

“I’m just not sure you’d get on.”

 

“Didn’t you ever listen to the Spice Girls?”

 

Phil blinks at him. “I don’t-”

 

“You know, ‘if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my-’”

 

“Oh, oh, yeah. I get it.” He sighs. “Go on then, meet her.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be, you know, proud to show her off?”

 

Phil doesn’t answer straight away, and Dan is struck by how  _ sad _ he looks. 

“Is everything… OK?” Dan asks, for the second time in two days.

 

“Fine.” Phil picks up his phone from the table top, swipes and taps. “There. Sent you her number. You two can go get coffee, or something.”

 

“You don’t want to be there?” Dan’s surprised. He would have thought - well, he doesn’t know what he would have thought, not anymore, to be honest. 

 

“Three’s a crowd,” Phil says, pouring the coffee. He picks up his cup, carries it into the landing. Dan hears him climb the stairs.

 

No mid-morning anime today then.

 

**_Phil’s still acting weird_ ** , Dan texts Chris.

 

Chris replies with a series of love-heart emojis.

 

*

 

He’s fifteen minutes late to meeting with Sasha, partly because he has a habit of being late to everything, and partly because he was hoping that if he was late enough she’d maybe give up and just leave.

 

No such luck.

 

(Yes, he suggested it, yes, he didn’t actually want it to happen. It’s complicated, OK?)

 

She waves him over to her table. “Hey, Dan! I thought I’d wait to get drinks?”

 

“Good idea,” Dan says, and even remembers his manners enough to say “Sorry I’m late, my hair was being uncooperative.”

 

She laughs. “Aw! Your hair always looks amazing! Phil was telling me the other day how happy he is that you’ve embraced the curly hair!”

 

“What?” Dan says. Maybe that should be his catchphrase.

 

“Caramel macchiato, right?”

 

Dan nods. 

 

“Maybe I’ll try one for a change,” she says.

 

“It’s kind of me and Phil’s thing,” Dan blurts out. “Oh - but, yeah, definitely try one, they’re really-”

 

“Oh, well, if it’s a thing just for you guys I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” she says. Then her smile drops, and she leans in close. Dan smells vanilla again. “You understand that I don’t want to get in the way, right, Dan? Phil hasn’t exactly told me, but I gather you went away for a couple of days ‘cause you and him had an argument, and I-”

 

“It’s all over now,” Dan says quickly. “We’re fine now.” It feels like a lie.

 

Sasha relaxes. “Oh, glad to hear it. Uh, we should probably queue for drinks?”

 

Dan nods. For a minute, they just stare at each other. The air is suffocating, and he finds himself coughing to try and relieve the pressure settling on his chest. All he succeeds in is in giving himself a sore throat. Nice one, Dan. 

 

After an awkward eternity, she stands up, puts on her (pink) coat, and they walk towards the (long) queue, join the back of it. 

 

“So, uh, what do you usually drink?” 

 

He knows the answer from her YouTube videos (hello stalker) but it seems the polite thing to ask. 

 

“I’m a vegan, actually, so soya lattes, mostly” she says. “Weren’t you a vegan for a while?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, and then laughs, out of awkwardness. The vegan-phase is kinda a sore spot. Another example of when he tried to create a better life and failed. “A while” - more like “a week”. Thankfully she doesn’t follow up his monosyllabic reply with any more questions.

 

“Is your cat vegan?” He asks.

 

Her eyes widen. “Oh, did Phil tell you about Sprinkles?”

 

“Uh,” he says, ‘cause, shit, he’s been caught out, that’s what you get for stalking. “I, uh - I… Sprinkles is a… cute name?”

 

Damn, why did he make it sound like a question? They’ve been talking less than five minutes and he already wants to swallow the drinks blender.

 

“Thank you!” she replies, all smiley, and Dan can’t tell if she’s stupid, blind, or optimistic. Possibly the first two are side effects of the third. 

 

He can’t think of anything else to say to her, and after a 20-second long silence he cracks, gets out his phone, messages Chris a quick:

 

**_Help. Me._ **

 

Rude? Yes. A self-preservation tactic, something that might stop him fleeing the shop? Also yes.

 

Chris replies: **_I’m going to pretend I haven’t seen this. Go. And. Make. Conversation_ ** , so Dan reluctantly returns his phone to his pocket.

 

He and Sasha order their drinks in silence, (Dan, in another moment of politeness, offers to pay for hers, but she’s having none of it), and they turn around to find that all the tables are full.

 

“Park?” Dan says. 

 

“I love nature!” she exclaims, and they begin to walk to the park, and Dan thinks, _ did they go to to park for their dates I shouldn’t be thinking this but I am oh god-  _

 

“You’ve been hanging around Phil so much, you might have inherited his bitten-by-squirrels tendencies,” he says, knowing it will make her laugh, and it does. He takes a sip of his drink, burns the top of his mouth. 

 

“So,” they say at the same time, her legs swinging on the park bench, his laid out in that awkward-tall-guy position.

 

“What… what got you into YouTube?” Dan asks, because often the answer to that question is actually interesting. 

 

She takes a deep breath. “I love creating new makeup looks, and my friends wanted to know how I did them, so initially it was just for them, initially. I was pretty much a nobody for the past two years, but six months ago someone re-posted one of my tutorials to Reddit and I just blew up!” The last two words are accompanied with her mimicking an explosion with her hands and voice. “It’s been crazy, to be honest. And then, of course, Phil commented on one of my videos!”

 

“Oh, yes,” Dan says, mind whirling at this new information. “What did he comment, again?”

 

Sasha colours. “He said I was ‘really talented’,” she says, in a whisper. 

 

Dan tries to picture Phil watching a random makeup guru’s videos, can’t. They watch Zoe’s and Louise’s, but that’s mostly out of a sense of friendship. Was Phil actively hunting down a beauty guru girlfriend? 

 

“You are talented,” Dan says quickly, because she is, he’s no expert but her eyelids are four different colours and surely that indicates skill. 

 

There’s more silence, but this one more companionable, in which they drink their drinks and stare at the trees. 

 

“I’m going to miss Phil when he’s on tour,” she says suddenly, and Dan’s heart does a sort of leap, because that suggests that, for the duration of the tour at least, he’ll have Phil all to himself. 

 

“You’ll have to do long-distance,’ he says, trying to inject some sympathy into his voice. “A lot of couples don’t survive that.”

 

“If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.” 

 

He finds he doesn’t have a reply to that. After a pause, he asks more about her time in beauty school, and she talks and talks and talks. 

 

*

Ringing Chris has become a 5PM habit. 

 

“I survived,” is the first thing Dan says, “we got on kinda well.”

 

“Congrats,” Chris says. “Can you picture their wedding without crying yet? That’s the real test.”

 

“Phil doesn’t seem like the marrying type,” Dan says, wondering as he does so if that’s really true. “At least, he hasn’t talked to me about ma-”

 

Phil’s in his room. Phil doesn’t look happy. Phil’s doing the mouth-pointing thing again. Dan says “hang on a sec”, with a sense of foreboding. 

 

“Hi,” Dan says, looking for some part of Phil’s face that doesn’t look angry.

 

“Would it kill you to stop telling him about my private life?” Phil says, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t tell Sasha anything about you.”

  
“What do you talk about, if not me?” Wow. He didn’t mean to sound so self-centered. 

 

Phil lets out a huff of breath. “Ever since I told you about Sasha, you’ve been acting weird. It’s like something has changed between us. I don’t like it.”

 

There are so many things wrong with Phil’s sentence that Dan can hardly get the words out. 

 

“ _ I’ve _ been acting weird? You - you never told me about her! Did you say  _ I’ve _ been acting weird? Phil, I mean, that’s rich coming from you, I don’t know how the fuck you think you’ve been acting, but-”

 

“I don’t want to have to choose between you,” Phil says, and it’s like the fight has gone out of him again. His arms hang limply by his sides. 

 

_ Choose me _ , Dan thinks.

 

“I love you,” Phil says, “remember that”. And then he leaves.

 

Dan stares after him, probably mouth gaping, gormless. 

 

Chris’s voice comes through quiet, Dan’s phone is still in his hand. “Dan? Has Phil confessed his feelings? Are you having sex right now? Actually, don’t answer that-”

 

Dan hangs up. Then he goes to lie down. Permanently. 

 

*

 

He wakes to a Post-It on the fridge:  _ Gone up north. Not sure when back. Water houseplants please. _

 

*

 

**_It’s not you, it’s me_ ** , Phil texts at midday.  **_I just need to get my head straight._ **

 

And Dan thinks,  _ Christ, are we just going to keep running from this? _

  
  



	3. Valentine's Day

**February 2018**

 

A day later the doorbell rings, and Dan actually _runs_ down the stairs, opens the door thinking _PhilPhilPhilPhilyoucameback_ -

 

(not thinking _doesn’t Phil have keys why is he ringing the doorbell_ , too happy for logic)

 

“...PJ? What are you-”

 

“We need to talk,” PJ says, stepping in without any “hello” or any of his usual cheeriness.

 

“Uh,” Dan says.

 

“Phil sent me,” PJ explains (like that explains everything). He hangs up his coat on the peg where Phil’s coat usually is.

 

Dan’s brain eventually starts to function again, enough that he finally closes the door. “Did you seriously come all the way here because Phil _told you to_ ? Phil… I… we’re not - we’re not America and North Korea! You don’t have to be, like, a _delegate_ , we can handle things ourselves…”

 

“Oh, sure,” PJ says, sounding like he doesn’t believe a word of it. “Can I have a cup of tea? Nightmare journey.”

 

“Really…” Dan says, completely blindsided. Have things really gotten this bad? “What did Phil say?”

 

“I’ll try and put it in an unbiased way… you’re being a twit.”

 

Dan makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a goose-honk. “Takes two to tango”.

 

“Tea,” PJ says, and Dan obliges.

 

*

“So, if I’ve got this right, it all started when Phil got a girlfriend,” PJ says, tea in hand, pacing around the lounge like some kind of hipster Sherlock.

 

“No,” Dan says cheerfully, “it started when I became rudely aware of her existence. Phil didn’t mention her at all.”

 

“He didn’t?” PJ’s pacing stops in its tracks, his hands frozen clasped together. “Why not?”

 

“You tell me.”

 

PJ frowns. “This complicates things. I thought this was all your fault.”

 

“Thanks, Peej. Hey, have you been hanging out with Chris lately? He seems kinda down.”

 

“Don’t try and change the subject. So... Phil gets a girlfriend, and he doesn’t tell you, his best friend, about it, because… because… because because because - because he’s in love with you! Ha!”

 

He points at Dan in triumph. Dan feels what’s left of his soul leave his body.

 

“Oh, god, not you too-”

 

“Think about it!” PJ’s eyes are as wild as his hair. “He’s hopelessly in love with you, but he thinks you’re not interested, so he tries to get a girlfriend to get over you! It’s the perfect crime!”

 

“That’s not exactly fair on Sasha, if it was true,” Dan says. “Not very ethical, is it?”

 

“Love works in mysterious ways, Daniel.”

 

Dan groans.

 

“So, Phil’s in love with you, now what?” PJ says. He gulps down half his tea, like this deduction has left him severely dehydrated.

 

“We get married and ride off happily into the sunset with our dog,” Dan says irritably. “I’ve had seven fucking years to make a move on Phil, I think I would have done so already if I really-”

 

“Don’t know what you have until you lose it.”

 

Dan closes his eyes, tries to remain calm. “I suppose you’re kinda a veteran with these issues,” he says eventually. “I mean, Sophie was right there for years, but you dated other girls, and then all of sudden you both realise you’re meant for each other, I mean, how does that just… happen?”

 

“We both kinda thought each other was cute, and then didn’t act on it ‘cause we were like, ‘nah, they’re just a friend’, and then we got kinda drunk one night and, uh, you know-”

 

“ _Seriously_?”

 

“No, you idiot.” PJ rolls his eyes (hopefully in a fond way). “We talked about it like _adults_ \- which you and Phil seem to be incapable of doing.”

 

“It’s kinda hard to talk about it when Phil runs away,” Dan says, like he didn’t do the same just a couple of weeks ago.

 

“It might be easier now you’re apart. Texting is kinda less… _charged_ … then arguing face to face.”

 

“I don’t even know what we’re arguing about,” Dan moans, sinking his head into a cushion. “Sasha’s nice. I’m kinda… jealous - envious - whatever, but I’ll get over it. But then Phil tells me he loves me-”

 

“Ha! Knew it!”

 

“- and buggers off up north, and I’m just left… I have questions. He said he didn’t want to tell me about her because that would ‘make it real’, what do you think that-”

 

“HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

 

(Dan suppresses a sigh)

 

“-means?”

 

“I think,” PJ says, one leg on the sofa, the other in a sort of yoga tree-pose, “that you need to ask Phil if he has any feelings for you. Seriously.”

 

“Everyone’s telling me I’m in love with him, and now you’re saying he’s in love with me, I - isn’t love supposed to be more… obvious?”

 

“Love works in mysterious-”

 

“Shut. Up.”

*

 

PJ stays for lunch, or, rather, he stays for an impromptu Tesco shopping trip, and then lunch, ‘cause Dan wasn’t planning on having guests round.

 

“Text him,” PJ says, in between bites of fajita. “I’m here for moral support”.

 

“Later”.

 

“ _Now_.”

 

It turns out that PJ has a killer death-glare. Dan acquiesces.

 

**_Phil._ **

 

They wait, ten, twenty minutes, three rounds of Mario Kart, and… nothing.

 

“He hates me,” Dan declares, throwing the controller to the floor. “He’s realised I’m a parasite on his life. He’s going to move to the US with Sasha and create a whole new life without me, and all the fans will hate me and I’ll die penniless and alone and unlove-”

 

His phone beeps: **_Dan._ **

 

“He replied!”

 

PJ, long-suffering PJ, rolls his eyes. “People do tend to do that, you know.”

 

“What do I say now? Should I just say it straight? Or should we talk about the weather first, I bet it’s really cold up north-”

 

“For the love of all that is holy, just get it over with, please,” PJ begs.

 

Dan texts: **_Phil?_ **

 

**_...Dan?_ **

 

PJ, reading the exchange over Dan’s shoulder, looks like he wants to choke to death on the switch controller.

 

**_Do you like me?_ **

 

“We’re playing more Mario now,” Dan says the second after he sends that text, “I’m not looking at my phone for the next half an hour, okay?”

 

“Everything will be okay,” PJ soothes, but he also jumps when Dan’s phone beeps.

 

**_Of course I do, Dan! Do you think I’d live with someone I hated?_ **

 

“He’s ignoring the question,” Dan whines. “Why is he doing that?”

 

“That’s proof, right there,” PJ says, poking Dan’s phone. “He’s clearly head-over-heels for you.”

 

“Ugh,” Dan says.

 

**_PJ thinks you like me, like, like like me. That’s ridiculous, right?_ **

 

There. He’s gone and said it now. He releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

 

PJ pats him on the back. “Good job. That’s the hard part over with.”

 

When Phil doesn’t immediately respond, Dan switches the Mario Kart cartridge out in favour of Zelda, and him and PJ get reasonably engrossed for a while until Dan’s phone beeps once again. Dan’s beginning to find the sound ominous.

 

**_...I have a girlfriend, don’t I?_ **

 

Dan had a feeling he’d be getting that response.

 

**_Yeah but you could be hiding behind that_ **

 

He shows the message to PJ.

 

“Yeah, but he could be hiding behind that,” PJ says.

 

“I think I’ve questioned him enough for today.”

 

PJ nods. “Back to Zelda?”

 

“Haven’t you played it enough?”

 

PJ looks at him like that’s a stupid question.

 

*

 

“But what do you think he _means_ , though,” Dan’s saying, as he delicately burns their (super early, because they’re strapping growing lads) dinner. “Why go up north? Why not tell me about Sasha? Why-”

 

“I don’t know,” PJ says wearily. “All he told me is that he doesn’t think you like her, and that it’s getting in the way of your friendship.”

 

“I ‘don’t like her’? I do like her! She’s, she’s really… uh… nice?”

 

PJ raises an eyebrow, but otherwise doesn’t comment. “It’s coming up to 5. Better call Chris.”

 

“How do you-”

 

“It really makes him happy, you calling. You’re a good person for doing that.”

 

Dan feels his cheeks grow hot. “It’s nothing. I’m just trying to be a good friend, for once. I’ll - I’ll go call him, if you want to, uh, stare at the vegetables?”

 

PJ walks over to the wok, prods a slice of pepper with the spatula. “Are they supposed to be that colour?”

 

*

“What do you think that _means_ , though,” Dan says, for probably the fourth time.

 

“I think you need to dramatically confront him,” Chris suggests. “Sneak into his room at 3AM and shake him awake and just ask him.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause that’ll _totally_ work.”

 

“Do you have a better idea?”

 

Dan just hums. “PJ says ‘hi’, by the way.”

 

“What?”

 

“He came round. Phil told him to. He says ‘hi’.”

 

“Good ol’ Peej,” Chris says. “Tell him ‘sorry’ from me, will you? For maybe possibly ignoring his texts… I just… I’ve been having a bit of a downward spiral, I - what is it that you call it?”

  
  
“An existential crisis?”

 

“Yeah, that. Though I suppose I’m old enough that I can call it a proper ‘mid-life crisis’ now. Yay.”

 

Dan’s learnt that the best way to deal with Chris saying things like this is to just ignore it. Bringing it up will just end up in Chris quickly that he’s just joking, messing around. “Responses to our video were good,” Dan says. “You should come over, we can make another.”

 

“Maybe. Hey, did you see that documentary on dogs the other day? I thought of you whilst I was watching it.”

 

“I’m touched,” and he is. PJ calls from the kitchen “if I thought things were burnt before, they definitely are now!” so Dan says “uh, I gotta go. Take - take care of yourself, OK?”

 

“I think I can stay alive till tomorrow,” Chris says, and then hangs up, and once again Dan can’t tell how serious he was being. He hopes not very.

 

“I hope you like things…. ‘chargrilled’?” PJ yells.

 

*

 

Dan wakes on the fourteenth of February at half one in the afternoon, grumpy and irritable. Phil’s been gone three days, and Dan hasn’t heard from him since - since ‘The Confrontation’, as he’s dubbed it. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, reaches for his phone, for his latest bad habit of checking and rechecking Sasha’s Instagram (it’s not stalking now he’s met her, right?), checking, he guesses, for a sad breakup photo that’s never going to be posted. He clicks onto the app, and his heart sinks.

 

She isn’t spending Valentine’s alone. There’s a photo of a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant, accompanied by a series of hearts, and Phil might not be in sight, but Dan knows he’s there. She must have travelled up especially. _I hope he really does love her,_ Dan thinks, _‘cause god knows she clearly loves him._

 

His phone beeps, and he thinks _I swear to god if it’s Phil wishing me a happy Valentine’s I’ll_ \- but it’s just Chris.

 

**_Happy Valentine’s. Thought we could spend the day together? Mum might have kicked me out the house and told me to ‘do something romantic’ so I was thinking we could watch Love Actually and get drunk together?_ **

 

Dan finds himself not hating that idea, and is halfway through typing so when Chris messages again **_uh I’m kinda 15 minutes away? I swear to god she dragged me out of bed at like 10AM who’s up before 10??_ **

 

 **_Pick us up some chocolate, will you_ ** , Dan writes. **_You’re not spending Valentine’s unloved until you make yourself sick on chocolate._ **

 

 **_Reimburse me, I’m poor_ ** , Chris replies, and Dan laughs, ‘cause he’s just joking, right? and then feels kinda bad. For a brief moment, he imagines inviting Chris to live with him and Phil. They’d get on quite well, or so he thinks. That is, once Phil gets over any insecurities he might have about Chris being his “replacement”. Dan vows to have Chris come and stay some time soon.

 

Hell, why not tonight? It would make the flat less lonely.

 

 **_Stay the night_ ** , Dan writes.

 

**_Gonna try and seduce me into your bed, Howell? Well, bring it on._ **

 

*

“Snape, Snape, Severus Snape, DUMBLEDORE-”

 

“Shh, _shh_ , keep it _down_ ,” Dan’s drunk-whispering, as he nearly steps on an empty bottle of gin - they drink classy in the Howell-Lester household - in attempt to stop Chris leaping around on the sofa.

 

(Yes, it’s 3PM, yes, they’re already drunk. Chris had necked half the bottle of the vodka he’d brought with him the second he sat down. Chris is possibly a bad influence.)

 

As soon as Alan Rickman came onto the screen, he’d become hysterical. Dan’s done that video on different types of drunk people, but thinks Chris deserves his own category.

 

“Who needs _boyfriends_ , when you can have all this,” Chris slurs, and Dan’s nodding, though he doesn’t quite follow. On screen, Martin Freeman is pretending to pretend to receive a blow job from that actress that Dan recognises but can’t name, can’t name even when he’s not off his face on alcohol.

 

“Chocolate?” Dan offers, breaking off a slab of Dairy Milk. Chris takes it from him, gulps it down like a baby bird, (“did you even chew?” “chewing’s for _pussies_ ”) drinks more vodka.

 

“I wonder what Phil and Sasha are doing right now.”

 

“Probably fucking.” Chris looks up from the TV. “Sorry, that’s probably not what you want to hear.”

 

“I want them to have a good time,” Dan says, and it’s true. Even if he would be happier if they weren’t together. He swallows more wine (yes, he’s moved onto wine now). “Do you know if PJ and Sophie are doing anything nice?”

 

Chris grimaces. “Probably. They’re probably going to a fancy restaurant, knowing PJ. And then they’ll go on a cute walk and share hot chocolate. Or something.”

 

They watch the next half hour of Love Actually in a silence only punctuated by the sipping of drinks and the _snap_ of chocolate being shared out.

 

“Hey, why don’t you call Phil, tell him how much fun we’re having?”

 

That sounds like a fantastic idea. Dan, much drunker now, downs the rest of his drink, dramatically wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, forgets his phone password for a good 30 seconds, presses “Call”.

 

Phil picks up on the first ring. Dan’s surprised he’s even answering, but relieved. If he’s answering, he and Sasha aren’t -

 

He quickly shuts down that train of thought.

 

“Dan? Are you OK?”

 

Phil has the nerve to sound concerned, like he hasn’t left Dan alone in the flat for three days, left him to silence and rumination and self loathing.

 

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan says, or whispers, or sighs. “Hi, Phil. Thanks for leaving me all by myself, thanks a lot. But I’m not mad. I just miss you _loads_ -”

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

“No.”

 

“How much have you had? Should I send PJ over to look after you?”

 

“Oh, yeah, send PJ over, rather than tell me how you really feel, great idea-”

 

“You know how I feel, Dan.”

 

Dan’s too drunk to comprehend what that means. “Chris is here. We’re having _tons_ of fun, _tons_ of fun.”

 

“Just… don’t do anything reckless.”

 

Dan giggles. “Oh, you know me, I’m ‘reckless Daniel’ - oh, Phil, why did you have to leave me? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please come back-”

 

“Dan, I don’t want to have this conversation with you now, not while you’re drunk-”

 

“They say people tell the truth when they’re drunk. Well, here’s the truth: I love you-”

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying-”

 

And then the phone’s being knocked from Dan’s hand, and Chris is in his lap, staring at him. Just staring.

 

“Do I have something on my face?” Dan slurs, patting his face with both hands. “Do I-”

 

 **“** Can’t say it out loud,” Chris says, reaching over for his own phone. “What’s my fucking password?”

 

“How should I know?”

 

They sit there, Chris in Dan’s lap, both of them drunkenly listening to the increasingly urgent sound of Phil calling Dan’s name, the call still connected, even though Dan’s phone has been knocked to the floor.

 

“I’m pretty sure my password has ‘dick’ in it- yes! We’re in business! Hang up, hang up, and read my message!”

 

Dan does as he’s told. He squints at the brightness of the phone screen, goes to his text messages:

 

**Can I ask you something?**

 

 **Course. What?** Drunk Dan is a man of few words.

 

Chris doesn’t reply straight away. Dan looks over at him, finds him staring again.

 

“Shhh,” Chris says, “it’s our secret…”

 

“Whassat?” Dan says. He drinks more wine. “This is _bor-ing_. Can we play Mario Kart?”

 

“Later, later. This is important, Daniel.” Chris rests a hand on Dan’s face, leaves it there. “You have beautiful eyes.”

 

“They’re the colour of shit,” Dan corrects, but Chris is looking down at his phone again. Dan’s phone buzzes once more:

 

**I’m only able to say this cause I’m still kinda drunk…**

 

Another message comes through a second later: **I enjoyed kissing you.**

 

  
**I don’t want to date you** , Dan replies. Wow, he’s harsh when he’s drunk.

 

**Oh my god that’s not what I was asking**

 

 **You didn’t even ask me anything** , Dan points out. A string of messages come through:

 

**Alright, smart-ass! I’m getting to that!**

 

**I was gonna ask**

 

**If we could**

**  
** **Maybe**

 

**Fuck**

 

**No not “fuck” in that sense**

**  
** **I was just swearing**

 

**Well actually**

 

**What I’m trying to say is**

 

**I haven’t gotten laid in a while**

 

**And you’re not ugly**

 

**So do you want to**

 

**Uh**

 

**It’s Valentine’s Day**

 

**And**

 

**No homo and all**

 

**But**

 

 **Sounds pretty homo to me** , Dan texts, but Chris is still typing:

 

**Like**

 

**Oh, shut up**

 

**Sleep together?**

 

**I’m drunk**

 

**Ignore me**

 

 **Give me a moment to process what you’ve just said** , Dan texts. Chris responds with the “thumbs up” emoji. He’s avoiding Dan’s eyes now, staring at the vodka bottle.

 

Sleep. With Chris. Sleep with Chris. Sleep With Chris.

 

“It would be, like, doing each other a favour”, Chris says out loud, startling Dan. “I’ll leave you to think about it now, but I promise it’s no homo-”

 

“We’re both into guys, you idiot,” Dan interrupts.

 

Chris looks back it him, expression still unreadable. “Finally admitting it now, huh? You’ve come a long way, Howell.”

 

Dan lets the comment hang. Chris isn’t unattractive. Just not Dan’s type, but then he doesn’t have to be. They wouldn’t be doing this out of feelings, or even really lust. It would just be… like a business transaction.

 

No, that sounds cold, calculated. There would be mutual respect, a shared history between them. It wouldn’t be like bringing a stranger home.

 

Friends with benefits. He tastes the words in his mouth.

 

 **Would this be a one time thing?** He asks, via text. This is a delicate topic, even as smashed as they are, and he wants to tread carefully. It’s easier to say the truth when it’s not face to face.

 

Once again, there’s a string of messages:

 

**Depends how big your dick is.**

 

**I’m joking**

 

**Or I am**

 

**I’m JOKING**

 

**Anyway**

 

**Uh**

 

**We could just**

 

**Do it once**

 

**And go from there**

 

**No pressure?**

 

**Does this mean you’re considering it??**

 

 **Could this ruin our friendship though** , Dan types.

 

 **Only if you let it** , Chris replies. **It would be no pressure, no feelings. Just two bros chilling…**

 

Dan must still be drunk, because he really is considering it.

 

His phone rings: Phil. He stares down at the caller-ID.

 

“Hang up, hang up,” Chris is saying, but Dan’s not really listening.

 

Phil, who didn’t want to tell him he got a girlfriend. Phil, who’s being lying to him, hiding things from him, keeping him in the dark. Phil, his best friend, now almost a stranger. Phil’s moved on in his life, found someone else.

  
Dan rejects the call, puts a hand on the back of Chris’s neck, and pulls him in close. Their mouths meet.

 

He can find someone else, too.

 

*

 

Later, the pair of them lie together in Dan’s bed (somehow, they made it to the bed). Chris is fast asleep. Dan stares up at the ceiling.

 

It all happened in a blur, but he remembers saying one thing, one name, over and over:

 

 _Phil_.

 

*

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ , oh fuck-”

 

Dan lifts his head up, groggy. The fire alarm is wailing. A voice sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. He frowns. Who-

 

“Oh FUCK oh god why oh god-”

 

Oh. Chris. Dan sits up, wincing. His head is pounding. Gone, it seems, are the days of heavy drinking without repercussions.

 

“Shit shit shit-”

 

“Everything okay?” Dan whispers, barely audible to his own ears. Raising the volume any louder would just make the pain in his head worse, but of course not doing so means that Chris can’t hear a word he says, especially with the noise of the fire alarm. Dan sits up, too fast, and his vision swims. His mouth tastes sour. Water. He needs water - but his eyes threaten to close again -

 

He wakes a short time later, to Chris pushing at his shoulder and saying “Dan, wake up. WAKE UP.” He’s holding a smoking tea towel, looking surprisingly awake and non-hungover. Dan knows he himself doesn’t look the same. Chris is kinda avoiding his eyes, and his voice has a forced lightness. “Oh, you’re awake, good. I made pancakes - or _tried_ -”

 

“We had the ingredients for pancakes?”

 

“- and there was a small fire, _small_ , but I put it out. It was only small.”

 

“You set the pan on _fire_?” Dan whispers. “How did you even-”

 

“Hey, I was making those for you, you know. Pancakes are a great hangover food.”

 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?”

 

Chris raises the tea towel a little higher. “I can’t.”

 

Dan rubs his throbbing head, notices a bruise-like mark on Chris’s neck, tries to think of how it got there. He tries to piece together the day’s memories, through his drunken haze. “What - what time is it?”

 

“7PM, or thereabouts. Pancakes - actually that should be a singular, uh, _pancake_ \- for dinner?”

 

Dan grunts in response. “Did I do anything I’ll now regret?”

 

Chris is totally not looking at him now. “About that…”

 

*

 

The pancake is a little charred, but Chris has practically dumped the entire pot of (probably out of date) golden syrup over it, so it’s not the most overpowering taste. Dan watches him eat an entire tablespoon of the stuff.

 

“Do you _want_ diabetes?”

 

Chris doesn’t reply. He’s barely said a word to him since they got downstairs, and has been avoiding eye contact ever since.

 

“Look,” Dan tries, “about what we-”

 

“We were just drunk,” Chris says, staring at his empty plate. “Just drunk. Right?”

 

“Of course. No feelings.”

 

Chris looks up at him then, and Dan thinks he looks maybe like he’s about to cry. “‘Course. Uh, do you mind if I have a bath?”

 

“Sure,” Dan says. “Uh, now? I can-”

 

“Yeah. Now.”

 

Chris is in the bath for the better path of an hour. Dan takes it as an opportunity to down some paracetamol, clear up the empty bottles in the lounge, and studiously ignore the five missed calls from Phil.

 

 _Chris and I slept together. Fuck_.

 

He has no protocol for situations like this. He’s not a drunken-hookup guy. What the hell was he thinking?

 

He thinks back to Chris sitting in his lap, complimenting his eyes. Just drunken behaviour, right?

 

Now is really not the time for him to be caught in a love triang-

 

 _Why would I be in a love triangle_ ? he says to himself, cursing his own brain. _I’m_ not _in love with Phil. Or Chris. I’m not in love with anybody, and nobody with any sense would be in love with me._

 

Chris emerges from the bath, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. The “bruise” on his neck continues in a winding path down his body. Dan averts his eyes, though it’s a bit too fucking late for that, really.

 

“I was thinking, I might, head off, now? Don’t want to overstay my welcome, and all.”

 

Dan doesn’t say “no, stay,” he doesn’t say, “what we did doesn’t change things between us,” he just nods. He needs space to reflect on what the hell has happened.

 

“I’ll walk you to the station?” he offers eventually.

 

“I think I’ll be OK.” It isn’t said coldly, not exactly, but it’s missing Chris’s usual brightness.

 

 _Oh god, what have I done_...

 

His phone buzzes: Phil.

 

**I’ll be home in a couple of days. Hope you had a good day!**

  
_Fuck_ , Dan thinks. _Fuck fuck fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t wanna tag this Dan Howell/ Chris Kendall ‘cause spoilers, and also because to me that tag implies a romantic relationship. Hopefully them sleeping together didn’t seem too weird or forced. As for my plans for the rest of the fic? I’m just writing as I go, but I hope there’ll be a happy “phan” ending. Sorry for all the angst so far…


	4. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why are all my chapters all in february I’m so sorry
> 
> also Louise really isn’t in enough fics so here you go have some Dan/Louise friendship you’re welcome

**February 2018**

 

“You did _what_?”

 

Dan puts his head in his hands, nearly knocking his caramel macchiato to the floor. “I _know_.”

 

“That doesn’t seem like you, at all.” Louise takes a sip of her drink. “Did you do it to get back at Phil?”

 

Normally, he’d immediately, defensively, refute that idea, but it’s been going round and round in his head for the past 48 hours, so he can’t deny that it might be true. Thank god Louise didn’t have plans today. He had to talk to someone, and it couldn’t be Phil, because _reasons_. They’d collided on the doorstep, Dan leaving and Phil entering, and Dan had said a quick “hi” and fled. He can deal with Phil later. He’s also been left a string of increasingly angry texts and voicemails from PJ, demanding he explain himself. He’ll have to deal with that later, too.

 

The upside of sleeping with Chris means that Phil isn’t the first thing on his mind, for the first time in god knows how long. Not that these new thoughts are any more pleasant. You win some, you lose some, he supposes.

 

“What do I do?” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have- we shouldn’t have…”

 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Louise says, far too kindly. “If the friendship between you is strong enough, you can get through this.”

 

“I have to talk to him, don’t I.”

 

“You kind of have to, I’d say, yeah. Sorry.”

 

“Talking isn't my strong point.”

 

She doesn’t contest that. “Why don’t you ring him?”

 

“What, right now?”

 

“Yeah.” She puts a hand on his arm. “I’m here for moral support.”

 

He finally lifts his head up. “Thanks. Well… here goes nothing.”

 

He presses call, and together they listen as the phone rings and rings.

 

_The number you have dialled is not available right now. Please leave a message after the beep-_

 

He hangs up, goes back to putting his head in his hands. “I’ve fucked up. I’ve gone and fucked it all up-”

 

“It’s okay,” Louise soothes. “You’ve only called him once. Try again in an hour. I’m sure he’ll pick up eventually.”

 

But he doesn’t.

 

*

 

“This is about me leaving you, isn’t it?”

 

Dan freezes mid-cracking-an-egg, and succeeds in getting it all over the tabletop. He turns to Phil, eyes wide. “It’s actually not,” he says, once his brain has started functioning again. “I promise.” He half-heartedly swipes at the dripping egg white. One of them had to crack - like the egg, ha - eventually, he supposes. They’ve barely said three words to each other since Dan came back from Starbucks.

 

Phil seems to relax, hearing his reply. Dan notes that it doesn’t look like Phil wants to have _that_ conversation yet, either. Well, fine with him.

 

“You can tell me anything, you know that, don’t you?”

 

Dan stares at him for a few seconds, thinking that over. Then he says, in one breath, “I-kinda-maybe-slept-with-Chris?”

 

Phil laughs. “Wow, you really got drunk, huh?”

 

Dan stares. Phil stops laughing. “Surely you’re not - did you actually - god-”

 

“Yeah,” Dan says, stepping over to the tap to wash the egg off his hands. “Uh, yeah. We were pretty wasted.”

 

“Was it good?”

 

“Phil!”

 

Phil’s not laughing, or smiling. Dan’s known him long enough to recognise when he’s angry, and now looks like one of those times. It’s the flexing of the hands, the jaw.

 

“Did you enjoy it?”

 

“No complaints,” Dan eventually says, trying to hold back his own sudden rush of anger. He tips what’s left of the egg into the pan far more forcefully than he needs to, the ceramic clunking against the side. “What does it matter to you, who I sleep with?”

 

Phil opens his mouth, then closes it, and shuts his eyes, too. “Oh, god,” he says after a beat. “It’s one of the signs, isn’t it?”

 

“...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Phil’s got something… pitying… in his eyes now, and Dan hates it. Phil goes on, “Of impending suicide. ‘Reckless behaviour’, it’s a sign. Are you... feeling that low?”

 

Dan laughs. A mistake. The flexing hands and jaw are back.

 

“Dan, if you think this is all a game-”

 

“Sorry, sorry. I just - I’m fine, Phil. I’m fine.”

 

“I’m not sure you are.”

 

“Trust me.”

 

Last year, Phil would have replied, without question, some variation of “Of course I trust you,” or, if he was feeling sappy, “I trust you with my life, Dan.” All he says now is “I’m not sure I even know who you are, anymore.”

 

“I’m the same old Dan,” Dan says, his throat suddenly dry. The egg is burning now, but that hardly matters. “I might have curly hair, and I might be doing all this rebranding, but I’m still that insecure 19-year-old you met at the train station all those years ago. I’m still me, Phil. Now, who are you turning into?”

 

Phil is silent for a couple of minutes. When it’s clear he won’t be replying straight away, Dan tips the egg into the bin and reaches for the frozen bread in the freezer.

 

“I’m thinking of getting a job. After the tour.”

 

The words hang in the air, as Dan tries to make any sense of them. The most intelligible thing he can think to do is repeat Phil’s words back at him: “A job?”

 

Phil nods, but his eyes are on the bread Dan’s putting into the toaster. “As part of a film crew. I want to get back into that side of things. Maybe I could get a small part, an acting role, or something…”

 

“Is this… is this the end? Of us?”

 

“Why would it be the end of things?”

 

“You know why,” Dan snaps, slamming the toasting lever down with so much force that the noise resounds around their kitchen. “It’s how it all starts, isn’t it? You quit YouTube, get an acting job, move in with Sasha, have children, and - _boom_ \- Dan’s all alone and forgotten about-”

 

“Dan, I wouldn’t-”

 

“Oh, but you already have, Phil. This whole year I’ve been lied to and pushed aside and shoved in a corner, I think you’re having some sort of fucking midlife crisis if you ask me but don’t let me stop you-”

 

“Shouldn’t you be _happy_ for me?” Phil practically shouts. “Friends support each other, they’re happy for each other, I’ve listened to you talk about wanting to go back to university and how you regret giving up acting, but the second I try and change, you- Dan? Where are you going? You can’t just ignore this!”

 

“Ignoring things has worked pretty well so far!” Dan yells from halfway up the stairs. “You know what, fuck you, Phil. Fuck you!”

 

He doesn’t get a reply.

 

*

 

He’s got his hand hovering over the “call” button when he thinks, _ah, yeah, can’t do that anymore_. Now he hasn’t even got Chris to talk to about his fucked up life, or, by extension, PJ, either. Louise probably won’t want to see him two days in a row, but who else has he got?

 

Then he thinks back to what she said earlier today, about calling Chris, sorting things out. He’d rather stick pins in his eyes than actually take responsibility for his actions, but he’s running out of options.

 

_The number you have dialled is not available right now. Please leave a message after the beep-_

 

He hangs up once more, sends a single text-

 

**I’m sorry.**

 

-and gets into bed, still fully clothed.

 

 _I’ve gone and done it now_ , he thinks to himself. _Boy, and I thought things were bad two weeks ago…_

 

*

 

He half expects to see another “gone up north” Post-It on the fridge, but there isn’t one. Not that that doesn’t mean Phil can’t escape to other places, like Sasha’s flat, or Starbucks, but, still, it’s a start, righ-

 

“Hey, Dan!”

 

Martyn sounds surprised to see him here, in his own flat. Well, _Dan’s_ certainly surprised to see _him_. Is this the new stage of their arguing-development, “bring the family to you”, that sort of thing? If so, he loses. Phil’s family are far cooler than his. He watches as Martyn gets Phil’s cereal out of the cupboard, and then effortlessly reaches in the second for a bowl.

 

“Do you like Sasha?” he blurts out, because apparently he really needs to know.

 

“Phil’s told me you’re not too fond,” Martyn says, now reaching into the cutlery draw for a spoon, gently sidestepping the loaded nature of that question.

 

“Nyeh,” Dan says. And then: “He’s talking about quitting YouTube. You’re here to talk some sense into him, right?”

 

“Sometimes people want to change, Dan,” Martyn says, in a somehow totally non-condescending way, as he pours milk onto his cereal. “I know it’s a shock, but he’s done YouTube for over ten years now. I don’t think he wants to quit _forever_ , it’s more a break, you know?”

 

“But I- we- I’m not _ready_ -”

 

“You two need to talk. About a lot of things.”

 

“I don’t know how,” Dan says helplessly.

 

“You could do it over text, if face-to-face is too much?”

 

Dan thinks over all the thoughts that are whirring round in his mind. They hold more weight than a text message delivers. But, then, isn’t texting is better than saying nothing at all?

 

“I love him and I don’t want him to ever leave me,” Dan says. “I think that’s the gist of it.”

 

Martyn pauses, spoon halfway to his mouth. “You’re finally admitting it,” he says, after a pause. “Dad owes me ten quid.”

 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like-”

 

Martyn holds his stare. “You didn’t?”

 

“No, I-”

 

“Be totally honest with me right now, Dan,” Martyn says, as serious as Dan’s ever seen him. “You want to tell me that you haven’t got any feelings for Phil? None at all?”

 

“It’s not that I’ve never ever had them,” Dan begins, and then falters. “I…”

 

“Has seeing Sasha brought those feelings to the surface?” Martyn offers.

 

“Sasha’s not right for him,” he says, and god it feels good finally saying that out loud. “I don’t know why, but she just isn’t.”

 

Martyn raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Dan goes on: “It's just… Phil is my best friend. He's always been there and I… I don't really know how to be without him. And I mean… How do you know when you love someone? When does the line between ‘friendly love’ and ‘romantic love’ get crossed?”

 

“Have you dreamt about giving him a blow job? That’ll probably tell you all you need to know.”

 

Dan splutters. Martyn lets out a laugh, almost choking on his cereal. “Sorry, I ruined your philosophising. The answer is… it’s complicated-”

 

(Dan lets out a groan)

 

“-but, honestly, just from looking at you? I think you’re in love with Phil. You just haven’t fully realised it yet.”

 

“It just feels like codependency to me,” Dan grumbles, but Martyn’s words hold weight in a way that his friend’s don’t. “What if I don't want to be in love with him? What if I just want things to stay as they used to be? Why do I suddenly have to be in love with him?”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything ‘sudden’ about it, mate,” Martyn says.  

 

“Well it sure fucking feels it.”

 

“I-” Martyn begins, but his eyes tear away from Dan’s, to something behind him, and Dan knows that that something is Phil.

 

“We can talk later,” Dan says quietly, already making a beeline back upstairs, but Phil calls him back with a “Dan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We should get coffee. Like, now.”

 

Phil might still be avoiding eye contact, but this has to be progress, Dan’s sure of it. Even if all they do is drink caramel macchiatos and ignore each other, it will be progress.

 

“See you later, I guess,” Dan says to Martyn.

 

Martyn just winks in response.

 

*

 

“I’m getting three distinct vibes from you,” Phil says, as they sit down with their drinks (the barista knows Dan by this point, is probably thinking to herself “does he even have a job?”).  “First, you don’t like Sasha. Second, you don’t like that I’m with her. Third, me being with her has got you looking for a relationship of your own, to try and counteract the feelings of loneliness and abandonment you’ve been feeling. Well, I’m sorry you’ve-”

 

“Bloody hell, Phil,” Dan interrupts, “at least let me have my caffeine first. What’s gotten into you?”

 

“Martyn had a talk with me,” Phil mumbles, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “A lecture, a ‘telling off’, that sort of thing.”

 

“Saying?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Dan taps his fingers against the table. “What did Martyn say?”

 

Phil drops the eye contact. Damn. “Stuff.”

 

 _Fuck it_ , Dan thinks, _what’s the worst that could happen if I just say_ -

 

“Martyn thinks I’m in love with you.”

 

Had this been a movie, Dan reckons Phil would have choked on his drink, but theirs are really only for the aesthetic at this point, each one has barely been sipped.

 

“Martyn said that?”

 

“Don’t stall for time, Phil.”  
 

“I’m not- okay, maybe I am. Are you?”

 

“Am I in love with you?”

 

The corner of Phil’s mouth quirks up. “Now look who’s stalling for time.”

 

“It’s a possibility,” Dan says, now also not making eye contact, because he just can’t face it. “Like how unicorns are a possibility, or heaven, a kind of Schrodinger thing, you know-”

 

“Dan,” Phil says. “Oh, Dan.”

 

“Yes, Phil?”

 

Dan forces himself to look into Phil’s face. Phil’s expression looks carefully chosen, carefully neutral.

 

“I have a girlfriend, Dan.”

 

‘Girlfriends don’t have to be forever,” Dan whispers. He reaches across, places his hand on Phil’s. Phil looks at his hand, lets it rest there. “I-”

 

_You set my soul alight_

 

_Glaciers melting in the dead of night-_

 

“I have to get this,” Dan says, “I’ll be back.”

 

He’s not quick in leaving the building, because he knows who’s calling:

 

Chris.

 

*

 

“So-I-was-maybe-thinking-we-could-do-it-again?”

 

“Are you _drunk_?”

 

Dan had been expecting a scolding, a ‘telling off’, a shouting match, not… whatever _this_ is.

 

“I’m probably a little bit, yeah.” Dan thinks he hears Chris take a swig of something. “Had to be, to have this conversation.”

 

“You want to… mess around… again? Am I getting this right?”

 

Chris huffs out a laugh. “How crude do you want me to be, Howell? Oh, I really enjoyed it last time when you did that thing with your-”

 

“Friends with benefits?” Dan interrupts. “No feelings?”

 

“Uh, about that…”

 

 _This can’t be happening_ , Dan thinks. _This just can’t be_ -

 

“You don’t even know me,” Dan blurts out, and then instantly regrets it. “Sorry, sorry, I-”

 

“I have eyes, though. You’re cute.”

 

“And you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

That sentence seems vaguely familiar to him, but he can’t quite place it. He shakes the feeling off. “Call me when you’re sober, and then we’ll talk about it.”

 

“So that’s not a hard ‘no’, then?”

 

“I’m not sure I-”

 

“Save it for when I’m not drunk, Howell.”

 

Chris hangs up. Dan stares down at his phone, feeling vaguely like he’s in a dream.

 

“Everything go OK?” Phil asks, when he sits back down.

 

“Uh,” Dan says. “I-”

 

Phil puts his hand on top of Dan’s, just for a second, and all the words Dan was about to say disappear. “We should head back now, yeah? I was thinking we could take Martyn to that new pizza place?”

 

“Sure,” Dan says, feeling like he’s one step away from a mental breakdown. What the fuck is going on?

 

*

 

“You could join me, Dan,” Phil’s saying, over pepperoni pizza and diet coke. “We could take this break together. What do you think?”

 

 _I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this_ , Dan wants to say. _Martyn must be a wizard._

 

“I could take a night class, or something,” is what he actually says. “Pick up some Japanese for our next trip.”

 

Phil beams at him. He’s had a smile on his face ever since their coffee discussion. Dan’s not sure what part of the conversation is eliciting this reaction, but then again he doesn’t really care about its origins, just that it exists.  They’ve finally done it. They’ve stopped running. Now Phil just needs to break up with Sasha, and everything will be perfect. One step at a time, though.

 

“I know a guy who could help you get some auditions,” Martyn says. “If you’re really serious about this.”

 

“Maybe it is just a midlife crisis,” Phil says, shooting Dan a look that makes him wince, “but I think I really want to go for this. It’s time to branch out.”

 

Those words also give him deja vu. “You said Sasha wanted to ‘branch out’, too,” Dan says. “What did you mean by that?”

 

There’s a pause, long enough that Dan fills it with “She gave you the idea, didn’t she? Are you both going to become actors, now?”

 

“We wouldn’t necessarily work together,” Phil says quietly, his smile a little dimmed. “Is that OK?”

 

“You need to stop asking me if I’m OK with things you’ve already gone and done,” Dan says, but there’s no heat behind it. “I’m happy for you, that’s my answer. I’m sorry for losing it earlier. I just want you to be happy, Phil.”

 

“I’m gonna go and get another coke,” Martyn says, and he’s left the table before Dan can point out that it’s table service, and then understand that he’s deliberately leaving them alone.

 

“I want to you to be happy, too, Dan. Are you happy?”

 

Dan thinks about it. “Things could be worse. I think I’m overdue an existential crisis.”

 

“I think I’m having it for you,” Phil says softly, and he reaches across and grabs Dan’s hand under the table. “You’re the most important person in my life, you know that, right?”

 

“What about Sasha?”

 

Phil pauses, leans in, speaks so quietly Dan has to lip-read, “Me and you, we’re soulmates, Dan. We have a connection that I’ve never had with anyone else. I don’t want to lose that.”

 

“Just… talk to me, please. Tell me everything you’re feeling. And I’ll tell you everything I’m feeling.”

 

“...How are you feeling right now?” Phil asks.

 

“Right now?”

 

Phil nods.

 

“A bit… ‘windswept’. There are a lot of things going on, and I’m just trying to stay afloat.”

 

“Well, I’m here for you, OK? I’ll always be here.”

 

“Phil?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Phil squeezes Dan’s hand. “Happy. Nervous for the future, but happy.”

 

“Good.”

 

Martyn finally returns to the table, empty-handed.

 

“No coke?” Dan asks, pointedly.

 

Martyn shoots him a look that says _I’m trying to help you out here, mate, honestly why do I even bother?_

 

Dan tries to shoot him a look back that says _we’re OK, everything’s OK_ , but only really succeeds in looking kind of cross-eyed.

 

Phil squeezes his hand once more under the table, and, for the first time in forever, Dan is content.

 

*

He wakes to a string of text messages:

 

**I think I called you yesterday?**

 

**Fuck**

 

**I was drunk**

 

**I didn’t mean any of it**

 

**I hope I didn’t say what I think I said**

 

 **Did I say that?** ****

**Just**

 

**I don’t know what to do**

 

**I should have known**

 

**That I can’t just do “sex”**

 

**There always have to be feelings**

 

**Don’t reply to any of this**

 

**I need space right now**

 

**Also**

 

**Sorry if PJ’s been on your ass about all this**

 

**He just cares**

 

**It’s not your fault**

 

**It’s mine**

 

**All mine**

 

*****

 

Phil pops his head into the lounge as Dan is ungracefully attempting the downward-dog pose.

 

“Do-you-wanna-read-this-script-I-got-sent?”

 

“Hreeeh,” Dan wheezes. “Gimme… a… sec.”

 

He collapses onto the (black) yoga mat. “Okay. Hit me.”

 

Phil thrusts a thick wad of paper at him. “It looks so cool!”

 

Dan gives it a skim-read. “Yeah, looks pretty - wait - do you-”

  
  
“Yeah, there’s a sex scene. I know. But I figured, I’m an adult, I can handle-”

 

“That’s not rebranding, that’s sullying pre-teen girl’s innocence! The second they find out you’re in it, they’ll find a way to watch it!”

 

Phil just laughs. “I’ll take on a different name, then. Besides, it’s not the lead role. No one will even notice me.”

 

“You underestimate the Phandom, I’m telling you.”

 

Phil actually jumps up and down on the spot. “But what do you think? Should I try for it?”

 

Dan shrugs. “Sure, why not. Has Sasha looked at it?”

 

“Why do you always have to bring her up?”

 

“Uh… because she’s your _girlfriend_?”

 

Phil wrinkles his nose. Dan tries not to read anything into that.

 

“I was thinking I’d only tell her if I did get the role, you know, as a surprise? Oh, and Dan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can you help me learn my lines?”

 

“‘Course. Wait, like, right now?”

 

Phil nods vigorously. Dan eases himself up off the floor with a groan. He’s 26 going on 86. “Prepare for me to show you up, mate. Which one of us did A Level drama?”

 

“Which one of us had a minor role in Faintheart? I rest my case, Danny.”

 

“You just wait. You’re going to weep when you see my delivery.”

 

“Yeah, cause it’ll be shit.”

 

“Philip Lester! Language!”

 

Phil just smirks.

 

*

 

_Crabstickz has uploaded a new video: Goodbye Cruel World…_

 

*

 

“I can’t get through to him! PJ’s not answering either…”

 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dan. You know Chris. He’s just being dramatic.”

 

“But what if he’s not?”

 

Somehow, Phil manages to not roll his eyes, or sigh. They’ve been having this conversation for the past half an hour, ever since Dan got the notification that Chris had uploaded. The video had been deleted before he could watch it, but it was all over Twitter that Chris had been making jokes about suicide. Dan can’t help but feel-

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Dan,” Phil says for probably the eighth time. “You were drunk, too. It was a joint decision.”

 

Dan just curls up tighter on the sofa. “But I should have… called more, or gone round and visited, or-”

 

His phone beeps: PJ.

 

**Chris has been admitted as an inpatient. He’s not doing too good.**

 

**But it’s not your fault, don’t make yourself think that either of us blame you. I’m sorry for being so angry. I can see now that it’s a complicated situation. I’ll update you later.**

 

“Dan?”

 

Dan doesn’t realise he’s crying until Phil wipes the tears off his cheeks. “You know what, I’ll cancel dinner tonight. You need me more than Sasha does.”

 

He doesn’t argue, just leans in until he’s resting on Phil’s shoulder. “Do you think he’ll be OK? Like, really?”

 

“He might not be OK right now,” Phil says slowly, “but he will be. Don’t blame yourself, Dan. He’ll pull through. He knows you’re there for him.”

 

“Do you want to rehearse? Take my mind off things?”

 

Phil studies him for a moment. “That would help?”

 

Dan nods. “I like it when you do your ‘acting voice’. It’s sexy.”

 

“Mum told me I sound constipated, so thanks for the compliment.”

 

Dan huffs out a laugh, wipes his eyes. “Chinese takeaway?”

 

“Sounds great.”

 

He knows Chris won’t have his phone, but he sends the text anyway:

 

**I’m always going to be here for you. Talk to me if you need me. Please.**

  



	5. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the emo fringe is gone!! someone hold me
> 
> Also this is a shorter chapter than usual but I feel like enough happens in it? thanks for reading guys :)

**March**

 

“...I think Chris just needs a bit of space right now, Dan, that’s all,” PJ’s saying, but he’s unable to hide the worry in his eyes.

 

“He doesn’t want to see me?” Dan repeats. “But… I…. _oh_. OK.”

 

PJ gives him a weak smile. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t anybody’s fault.”

 

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Phil says, walking into the lounge precariously carrying three mugs of tea. “Can you tell us what happened, exactly?” He sets the mugs down on the coffee table, and they all reach for one.

 

“He…” PJ lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair. “Basically, he went to overdose on his medication-”

 

“Oh, god-”

 

“-Yeah. Then, uh, he googled it and realised that it wouldn’t kill him, gave up, basically, and rang 999. Thank god he did.”

 

Dan can echo that sentiment. “Is he gonna be discharged anytime soon?”

 

PJ shakes his head. “He’s really messed up right now. He’s safer there.”

 

“And there’s nothing we can do to help?” Phil asks. “Nothing at all?”

 

There’s a moment of silence. “You could... do another video, on mental health, Dan? And Phil could be in it, too? Just give him something to watch, to let him know he’s supported.”

 

Dan glances at Phil. They haven’t collaborated at _all_ this year, apart from the mandatory gaming videos. “I’m in, if you are?”

 

Phil gives him a wide, genuine smile, and once again Dan can’t believe the shift that has taken place between them over the past two weeks.

 

“Sure,” Phil says. “We could do a ‘How To Help A Friend Who’s Depressed’ type thing?”

 

“But we keep it light, with sarcasm and talks of existential crises,” Dan adds. “Yeah, I think this could work.”

 

Phil smiles another one of those smiles, and, for this one moment, everything is OK, will be OK, will be better than OK. Dan wants to put his hand on Phil’s, but PJ’s there. He promises himself he’ll do it later, when he’s left, when they’re left to watch anime and squabble over character arcs.

 

He’s possibly fallen, _hard_.

 

And he can’t bring himself to care.

*

 

_Daniel Howell has uploaded a new video: How To Help A Friend With Depression (feat. AmazingPhil)_

 

*

 

“Do you think it needs more emphasis? _Don’t_ leave. Or… don’t _leave_. Don’t leave! Don’t leave? Which one is-”

 

“Jesus fuck Phil, it’s one line. ‘Leave’ doesn’t even sound like a real word anymore.”

 

Phil pouts, looks at him with puppy-dog eyes. “It’s _my_ line, though. I have to say it right.”

 

Dan holds back a grin, makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Try it over again, from the top.”

 

Clearing his throat, Phil begins pacing around the lounge, the hand not holding the script already waving theatrically. He stops dead near the TV, looks Dan straight in the eye. “Charlie… don’t do this, _please_. Don’t _leave_. I won’t - I can’t - without you I’m - just… don’t _leave_.”

 

Dan claps, and Phil gives him a shy smile.

 

“You liked it?” Phil asks.

 

Dan rolls his eyes again. “It was great, you dork. You’re totally gonna get the role.”

 

“I hope so. Maybe this could be the gateway to bigger roles, you know?”

 

It’s said tentatively. Phil didn’t get the previous one, the one with the sex scene. Dan’s happy about that, can’t put his finger on why. It’s probably to do with jealousy, knowing him.

 

“Yeah, this time next year you’ll be the lead in Steven Spielberg’s next epic.”

 

“Am I detecting sarcasm, Daniel?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Phil smiles, picks up his empty ribena glass, leaves the room. His phone beeps, sitting there innocently on the sofa, and Dan can’t help but glance at the screen: a message from Sasha:

 

**haven’t heard from you much lately. everything OK, babe?**

 

Dan feels a stab of pity for her, but then Phil’s back in the room, glass full of ribena, sitting down so close to Dan that their thighs touch, and he’s soon forgotten all about her.

 

*

_You have one missed call from: Chris._

 

*

 

“Nobody on my ward has even heard of Fortnite,” Chris says, picking up on the first ring and skipping any “hello”. “I’m going crazy in here, let me tell you.”

 

“How are things?” Dan asks, trying to not convey the concern he’s feeling.

 

“Well, I’m not dead, and there are upsides and downsides to that.”

 

“Yeah.” Dan’s not sure what else to say. “When you called me, that time, I-”

 

“Can we pretend it never happened?”

 

“Sure, if you want.”

 

“Thanks. Thanks for the video, too. Did Peej put you up to it?”

  
“...Maybe.”

 

Chris laughs, but it sounds empty. “It was a good video. I… I think my video-making days are over, really. It’s time to get a real job. Maybe even retail. Oh god, now I want to die all over again.”

 

Dan tries to ignore that last part. “Just don’t go for Asda.”

 

“I won’t swan off to a festival and tell them I have diarrhoea, don’t worry-”

 

“-Hey! I feel personally attacked right now-”

 

“-in fact, I’m quite likeable if I put my mind to it.”

 

“You’re a very charismatic person.”

 

“Why thank you, Daniel. Any news your end?”

 

“Phil’s trying out for a small acting part. He wants to get back into that side of things.”

 

“I thought acting was supposed to be your dream?”

 

“I’m cool with it.” Dan shrugs, and then remembers that Chris can’t see him. “I’ll keep you updated.”

 

“Thanks. OK, I have to go now, there’s some art therapy bullshit that I have to attend.”

 

“OK, see you-”

 

“Thanks,” Chris says again, quieter. “You kind of helped me, you know, not go through with it.”

 

“With... overdosing?”

 

“Yeah. I thought of you and Peej, and I couldn’t do it.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

 

There’s a pause. “Maybe someday I’ll think that, too. Bye, Dan.”

 

And Chris hangs up.

 

*

 

Dan’s midway through a game of drunk Scrabble with Phil, PJ and Sophie when he gets a Twitter notification, of a direct message from Sasha:

 

**are you free to talk? I probably won’t make any sense but I need to talk to someone**

 

He stares at the message for a couple of minutes, just trying to process it. She must want to talk about Phil. What else have they ever talked about?

 

“Mum wants to talk to me,” he mumbles, putting down his glass and standing up. It feels right to lie, if lying can ever feel right. “Be back in a minute.” Phil shoots him a concerned look, so he adds “She’s fine, it’s OK. Just fancies a chat, I guess. I did forget to ring her last week.”

 

Sitting on the stairs, he types out a message in response:

 

**hit me. what’s up?**

 

She gets straight to the point, with a string of messages that make his heart think painfully of Chris:

 

**do you think Phil still likes me? he keeps making excuses to not hang out**

 

**maybe I’m just paranoid**

 

**he’s probably just busy**

 

**you *have* got the tour coming up, obviously**

 

 **he’s just working on something** , Dan says, not wanting to spill Phil’s secret. **we can tell you about it soon :)**

 

**it’s a surprise?**

 

**yeah. you’ll like it.**

 

He does feel guilty, but the information’s not his to share. Though how Phil could have kept his happiness from her is anyone’s guess - ever since landing the part two days ago he’s been practically bouncing off the walls from excitement, and rivalling Dan for antisocial bedtimes. The only way she wouldn’t notice is if he kept cancelling, which it appears he has. Thinking about it, Phil’s barely mentioned her for a week. He’s been too wrapped up in this new acting business, Dan supposes. All the same, Dan feels bad for her.

 

 **let’s hang out** , he says. **there’s a slam poetry night on in Oxford Circus next week**?

 

**sounds great :) thanks for listening to me whine.**

 

**it’s nothing.**

 

Really, it’s nothing. He hasn’t seen her in weeks, since their Starbucks-park excursion, when he was making a concerted effort to “get to know her”. Then again, is that really his fault? Phil should be the one to invite her round, get her and Dan properly acquainted. He hates to say it, but Phil’s being a bad boyfriend. Dan thinks of how his and Phil’s hands touched that week in February, how Phil looked at him, how Dan admitted to possibly loving Phil. _The lines are blurring_ , he thinks. Phil should probably break up with her, but that’s also not Dan’s call.

 

It seems Phil’s the only one out of the three of them that’s in control here.

 

*

 

“...so there I was, in an old t-shirt that had ketchup down the front, mascara on one eye, and the postman says ‘you look familiar, are you on TV?’ and I just…” She breaks into a fit of laughter, and Dan finds himself laughing along with her. What had he ever had against her?

 

 _Now that she’s no longer a threat, you get on well_ , his brain says. _Shut up_ , he says back.

 

They’re having fancy drinks at the bar, post-poetry, and he’s actually having a good time.

 

“You should come back to the flat,” he says. “You’re more than welcome.”

 

She beams at him. “You know, I thought you hated me at first.”

 

“Uh, well,” he says, because she’s not exactly wrong. “You know, I get jealous-”

 

“Phil even warned me about you.”

 

“He did?”

 

She takes a sip of her (neon purple) drink. “‘Dan might not like me spending time with someone else’, that sort of thing, like you were his pet, or his toddler, or something.” She gives him a “what is Phil like, huh?” look.”But we get on great, don’t we?”

 

“We do.”

 

“Have you got anyone, yourself?”

 

It takes him a moment to figure out what she means. He laughs. “Nah. I plan to die alone.”

 

She pushes his arm playfully, and he nearly falls off the bar stool (smooth, Dan). “Oh, don’t say that! There must be loads of girls out there who want to be with you!”

 

He lets the sentence hang there for a moment before saying “or guys,” and he really has to hand it to her, she doesn’t even blink, just echoes his words with a “yes, sorry,” and he says “let’s go back to the flat, surprise Phil,” and she’s nodding and downing the rest of her drink and they’re shrugging on their coats and getting on the tube.

 

“You’ve never played Zelda? Any of them?” Dan exclaims a couple of minutes later.

 

“I’m not a nerd like you, Dan.” She says it with another playful arm push, but he somehow manages to stay upright this time.

 

“Says the girl who buys eyeshadow just because it’s named after Harry Potter-”

 

“You say that like it’s not a totally awesome idea-”

 

“Could you help me out with something?”

 

She stares at him for a few seconds, smiles. “Sure. Uh, what, exactly?”

 

He stares at the floor. She won’t judge him, he knows that, but all the same he can’t meet her eyes. “I’d like to try wearing eyeliner. It’s just a - I’m not sure why I - anyway, I have no idea where to start, and since it’s like, your job, I thought-”

 

“I’d love to! But I don’t have my kit on me.”

 

He rubs his neck with his hand, glances up at her. “I may have gone on a bit of a shopping spree. I watched that video you did, and bought all the ones you recommended…”

 

Her smile threatens to engulf her entire face. “ _All_ of them? I recommended, like, 10!”

 

“Even the one that was £50,” he grumbles, “£50 for a glorified crayon?”

 

“That’s rich coming from Mr. Designer-Potato-Sack.”

 

He pushes her shoulder, and she just winks.

 

*

“Stop blinking so much!”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s the natural reaction to having something poking you in the eye,” Dan quips, but he tries to keep his eyes open, all the same.

 

“You get used to it after awhile,” she says, tongue sticking out as she “tightlines” (whatever the hell that means) Dan’s eyes. They’re awkwardly perched on Dan’s bed, Dan sitting cross-legged and Sasha kneeling in front of him, so close that he can smell the cocktails on her breath. Phil had looked, well, shocked, when they entered the flat, even more shocked when Sasha had just waved at him and giggled as Dan pulled her upstairs, and straight up _stunned_ when he followed them into Dan’s room and saw them bonding over eyeliner. They’d just laughed, letting him stand there, cluess. This was their time together, not his.

 

“There! Wow, you look great!”

 

She sits back on the bed, hands Dan a pocket mirror, and he peers into it. The overall effect is more subtle than he was expecting, and, really, that’s a good thing. He was anticipating being the love child of Taylor Momsen and circa 2005 Pete Wentz, a look he’s not sure he can pull off. Whatever Sasha’s done, it’s left his eyes looking bigger, but in a sophisticated way.  

 

“The eyeliner’s not even on my eye?” he says, voice rising at the end. “It’s there, but, how did you even…?”

 

“I put it on your waterline,” she says, “that’s why I was lifting your eyelid up. Look-” she lifts her own left eyelid up with a manicured finger, and Dan winces “-doesn’t hurt, just feels a bit weird, doesn’t it?”

 

“All I need now is a lip piercing, and I’ll be the dreamy punk everyone wants me to be.”

 

“It’d look real good with some pastel clothes,” she says, and he stares at her for a moment until she adds “yeah, I’ve read the fanfics. You’d look great in anything, though.”

 

“Thanks. You too.”

 

She taps her her phone, says “Is it too early for a midnight snack? Do you have any rice cakes?”

 

Dan wrinkles his nose. “You like rice cakes? They taste like cardboard.”

 

“ _Flavoured_ cardboard,” she says. “OK. No rice cakes. Popcorn?”

 

“Oh, we have ‘artisan’ popcorn, prepare to have your mind blown-”

 

“Ooh, look at you with your fancy popcorn-”

 

“Espresso Martini flavour good enough for you?”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause we totally need more alcohol,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Have you seen Ladybird?”

 

“Is that that one with the Irish girl with the unpronounceable name, but she’s playing an American?”

 

“Yep. I’ve seen it, like, three times, you just have to watch it.”

 

“Sounds good to-”

 

“Don’t rub your eyes!”

 

Dan freezes, hand midway to his right eye. “I didn’t even realise I was doing it. Damn.”

 

“Taking your makeup off and being able to rub your eyes is the best feeling, trust me. So, Ladybird?”

 

“Sure.”

 

*

 

“We’re kicking you off the sofa, mate,” Dan says, pushing Phil’s leg with his foot. Phil groans, lifts his glasses up so he can rub his eyes. It looks like he’s been staring at his laptop all day - not that Dan’s in any position to judge such behaviour.

 

“It looks good,” Phil says, and Dan’s just blinking at him until he adds “the, uh, eye stuff. Suits you.”

 

“Thanks,” Dan says, at the same time as Sasha says “This is just the beginning - I can’t wait to put highlighter on him!”

 

“I’m soulless, I’m not supposed to glow,” Dan jokes, and Sasha’s rolling her eyes, and Phil’s looking thoroughly confused at all the banter.

 

“Move,” Dan says, poking Phil in the arm. Phil lets out another groan, but gets up.

 

“Everything OK, babe?” Sasha asks. Phil just grunts. Dan shoots her a look that says “he’s having a sugar crash, he ate a whole packet of marshmallows before I left the house, don’t worry” and she smiles at him. “You want to stay and watch Ladybird with us?”

 

“I’m kinda busy,” Phil says, short and sharp, and Dan thinks, _wow, who pissed in your shredded wheat this morning, damn._

 

“More fun for us, then!” Dan says, injecting extra cheeriness into his voice to make up for the lack of it in Phil’s. He and Sasha watch as Phil leaves the lounge, laptop cradled in one arm, glass of ribena in the other.

 

“I don’t think he likes that we’re getting on,” Sasha whispers, as Dan fiddles with the Amazon Fire TV stick.

 

“Sucks to be him, then,” Dan says, and he means it. “Hey, maybe next time we meet up you could do some eyeshadow on me?”

 

“Autumn colours would look amazing! Oh, Dan, this is great!”

 

He catches himself about to rub his eyes, stops. It’s weird how hyper aware of your own eyes you become once you have makeup on them.

 

“Saoirse Ronan is my girl crush,” she says.

 

“You don’t like J-Law?”

 

“Irish accents are my weakness.”

 

“You should be dating jacksepticeye, then.”

 

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

 

Dan finally gets the film up (Amazon Fire confuses him at the best of times), and goes to grab the popcorn. _She deserves more than Phil_ , he thinks, shutting all the cupboard doors Phil’s left open. He’s going to push Phil to become a better boyfriend, even if he himself gets hurt in the process. What’s another few years of pining?

 

He’s Daniel Howell. He can totally handle this.

 

Can’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay Dan and Sasha are bonding!


	6. Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a month without uploading she comes back with a chapter…

**March**

 

_He’s going to push Phil to become a better boyfriend to Sasha, even if he himself gets hurt in the process._

 

The best-laid schemes of mice and men...

 

*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

*

 

They’re selecting songs to play before they come on stage, as the audience file into their seats. If Dan had it his way the playlist would comprise of 50% Muse and 50% Kanye West, but they have to “give the people what they want”, which, if Dan has any understanding of Gen Z kids, involves a lot of Panic! At The Disco. Hey, he thinks Brendon Urie’s hot too.

 

“We can’t not play ‘Welcome to the Black Parade,” Dan’s saying, as he sits on the floor at Phil’s feet, laptop in hand.

 

Phil leans forward, rests his hand on Dan’s shoulder. Dan watches the movement, then looks up at Phil.

 

“I’m worried that they’ll hear the G note and spontaneously combust,” Phil says, eyes focused on the Spotify app open on Dan’s laptop, as his hand splays out and begins to rub circles on Dan’s shoulder. “Does our insurance cover mass murder?”

 

That movement is distracting, Dan’s finding. He tries to remember how to speak. “We have to hype them up, Phil. Get them ready for the amazingness they’re about to witness.”

 

Phil hums, and his hand moves from Dan’s shoulder to ghost across Dan’s neck-

 

“Your muscles are tense,” he says, when Dan both freezes and simultaneously leans into the touch, and then his hand is back on Dan’s shoulder, and Dan’s wondering if he imagined what just - might have - happened.

 

Phil’s hand stays there until two hours later, when, having lost track of time, they break for dinner.

 

Dan tries not to read too much into it.

  


*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It progresses with Phil staring at Dan’s mouth.

 

*

 

They’re making a Sims video when it happens. Dan’s making fun of how Dab keeps wanting to kiss Evan’s hands, when he notices Phil looking at him.

 

“Is there something wrong with my face?” Dan asks, feeling weirdly self conscious.

 

Phil’s looking at him with an intensity that makes him feel naked.

 

Dan tries for a joke. “The dimple’s still there, Phil, don’t worry. It hasn’t fallen off in the night.”

 

_There’s hunger behind that gaze_ , Dan thinks.

 

Phil’s eyes flicker down to Dan’s mouth.

 

“I-” Dan begins-

 

But then Phil’s back to the game, making some quip about how they shouldn’t have picked the Romantic trait, how they should have seen something like this coming-

 

“I’ll edit this one,” Phil says suddenly, and Dan’s lost for words.

  


*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It advances with Phil holding Dan’s hand.

 

*

 

They’ve been invited round to Sasha’s flat, and she’s stirring the sauce into the pasta when Phil reaches under the table and brushes his fingers against Dan’s. Dan tries to shoot him a look that says _really, here, now?_ or _you have a girlfriend, we can’t do this,_ but Phil is as calm and collected as ever.

 

“What flowers are these?” Phil calls to her, and she turns to them with a smile. Dan freezes, thinks _Phil why did you get her attention she’s going notice she’s going to find us out_ , but she just says “They’re Peruvian lilies. Don’t they smell great?”

 

Dan looks at the flowers on the table in front of him. “Do they come in black?”

 

His voice shakes. Sasha frowns. “Do you want a glass of water, Dan?”

 

It’s all he can do to nod.

 

“He was up all night screaming at Japanese people on Mario Kart,” Phil says, and Dan’s almost impressed with his lying skills. Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s hand.

 

Dan wants to pull away, he really does. But he’s weak.

 

“Bon appetit,” Sasha says, putting bowls full of pasta down in front of them. “I hope I didn’t make it too spicy. I’ll get some yoghurt out, if it’s too hot then you can put some of…”

 

She keeps talking, but Dan’s distracted by Phil squeezing his hand.

 

_He has to let go now_ , Dan thinks, _we’ve got to eat._

 

But then he realises that from the way they’re sitting, with Phil holding Dan’s right hand in his left, that they need not separate at all.

 

“I’m just going to use the bathroom,” Dan says, getting up so abruptly that Phil’s hand is wrenched from his, that the chair nearly topples over.

 

He sits on the toilet seat lid, puts his head in his hands.

 

Later, on the Tube ride back to their flat, Phil doesn’t bring up what happened.

 

Dan thinks it’s probably for the best if he tries to forget about it.

 

*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It evolves with Phil’s mouth pressed to Dan’s.

 

*

 

“You don’t like them?” Dan’s saying, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. “You asked me to bring them.”

 

Chris is staring at the box of Charbonnel truffles, turning it over in his hands. Eventually he looks up at Dan.

 

“They’ve diagnosed me with bipolar disorder,” he says.

 

“Oh.”

 

“You know how I only make like one video a year, in February? And how I stream gaming videos for like five fucking hours a day for four days and then disappear off the face of the Earth again? Mania.”

 

He taps the box with one hand. “Two days ago, when I called you, I was having a manic episode. They’re really fun, you should try them.”

 

He doesn’t sound sarcastic. Dan blinks at him. Chris continues:

 

“Honestly, I was on top of the world. I asked Peej to travel to Jamaica with me next week - ‘Don’t worry, Peej, they’ll discharge me, I don’t need the meds, I’m _fine_ ,’ I said - I asked my mum to buy me a suit so that I could go and get a job at a law firm and make shitloads of money and quit after a year and never have to work again, and I asked you for a box of fancy ass chocolates because I thought I was amazing and only deserved the best...” He swallows. “Right now I’m back to a ‘depressive’ episode. I know that cause there’s an app for tracking it. There’s an app for everything nowadays… I don’t want to eat anything. It’s not your fault.”

 

“You don’t look as bad as I was expecting,” Dan says, because apparently he has no filter.

 

Chris cracks a smile at that. “They make me shower every morning. My hair has never been so clean. Here, smell it.”

 

They chat for little while longer, and then Chris says “Oh! More friends!” and Dan looks up to see Phil walking through the ward, scanning the room for any sight of them. Chris waves his hands above his head like he’s directing a plane into landing, shouts “Oi, Lester!”, gets a disapproving look from the on duty nurse.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dan says, as soon as Phil’s found them.

 

“Have you brought me something?” Chris adds, looking up at Phil with puppy dog eyes.

 

“Peej said the food here was crap, so I bought a takeaway - a lot of takeaway- that’s allowed, right?” Phil asks.

 

Chris is eyeing the bag in Phil’s hands. “This is a mental illness ward, they don’t give a shit as long as it’s nut free.”

 

“Good. Indian OK?”

 

“I guess I’ll have to eat the curry, and the samosas, and the naan, and the bhajis,” Chris sighs, taking the bag from Phil. Dan shoots him a look that says _I thought you said you didn’t want to eat anything?_ but it goes ignored.

 

“There’s enough for three of-” Phil begins, but Chris silences him with a look.

 

Chris begins to eat the curry (with his hands - “sorry lads, they won’t let me have real knives in case I stab myself, but what they don’t realise is that using plastic cutlery makes that even more of a tempting idea”), and Phil surveys the room, before sitting down on Dan’s lap.

 

“Ooof, heavy,” Dan gasps, and Phil smacks his arm playfully. Chris doesn’t look up from his food, doesn’t notice when Phil whispers in Dan’s ear “You look really good today,” doesn’t notice when Phil presses his mouth to Dan’s and Dan lets out a surprised squeak, doesn’t notice how Dan’s eyes close against his own volition, doesn’t notice how Phil rests his cheek against Dan’s.

 

Then he glances up, but Phil’s just sitting on Dan’s lap, there’s nothing weird about that, they were out of chairs, and Dan realises that that kiss must have only lasted a second or two. It felt like hours.

 

The nurse walks over a few minutes later to inform them that visiting time will be over shortly. Phil gets up to put the styrofoam tray of Chris’s curry into a bin across the room, and Chris watches him go, leans in, beckons Dan forward with a finger.

 

“I don’t know what he’s playing at, but you are _fucked_ , Howell.”

 

Dan can agree with that.

 

*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It’s driven forward by a wild night out.

  


*

“Which shirt looks better?”

 

Dan glances up from his phone, just long enough to take in that Phil’s holding up two smart shirts. “The black one,” he says, going back to Tumblr. “I don’t get why you’re dressing so nice. It’s just a tapas bar. This isn’t a double date.”

 

“It isn’t?”

 

Dan looks up again at that, puts his phone in his lap.

 

“I-”

 

Phil waits for him to finish his sentence. He doesn’t.

 

“Hey, I bought you something,” Phil says, and he’s diving into his jeans pocket and pulling out a-

 

“You got me a ring?”

 

Dan takes it, turns it over in his hand.

 

Phil beams at him. “It’s Black Onyx. I told the jeweller it had to be black. I hope I got your ring size right.”

 

“Should you be buying me a ring?”

 

Phil holds his gaze, though his smile drops slightly. “I can do whatever I want. It’s my money.”

 

“You got me a ring,” Dan says again. He looks at it, how it shines in the light. “I- thank you.”

 

“No problem. Here, let me put it on you.”

 

There’s something startlingly intimate about the feeling of someone else sliding a ring onto your finger. Dan had always pictured it happening at an altar, when he was wearing his best suit, and crying from happiness, pledging to remain with that person forever.

 

This is good, too, though.

 

Phil holds his hand for a second, or a minute, or an hour, and then he’s pulling away, muttering that’s he’s got to get changed, they can’t be late for the taxi, and Dan’s mind is swimming.

 

“We need to talk,” PJ says to him later, food consumed, as they sip cocktails and watch Sophie and Phil dance to the too-loud bass beat in some tiny club they crawled into at midnight.

 

“About what?”

 

PJ scoffs. He doesn’t look happy. “Whatever you and Phil are doing, it needs to stop.”

 

Dan takes a sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“If he’ll cheat on her with you, he’ll cheat on you with someone else.”

 

“Phil’s not like that. He’s a good person-”

 

“Dan! We should dance!” Phil says, practically pulling Dan off the bar stool.

 

Dan can feel PJ watching him as him and Phil sway to the beat, as Phil puts Dan’s hands on his shoulders, puts his own hands around Dan’s waist, pulls them impossibly closer.

 

“What are you doing?” Dan whisper-shouts, and Phil seems to understand that that’s a philosophical question, because he just says “Trust me.”

 

_I trust you with my life_ , Dan thinks, as he stares at the ring on his finger. _Is that wrong?_

 

*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It climaxes with Dan’s hands on Phil’s bare torso.

 

*

 

“Dan, the pancakes!”

 

Dan turns back to the frying pan, mind still short-circuiting from Phil’s arrival into the kitchen, and lifts up the edge of the pancake with a spatula: the underneath is almost charred. Still on autopilot, he carries the pan to the bin and tips the pancake into it.

 

“You take over,” Dan says. “I’ve forgotten how to cook.”

 

Phil laughs at that, takes the frying pan and puts it back on the hob, pours more batter into it.

 

Dan stares at Phil’s naked back for a few seconds, says “It’s cold in here?”

 

Phil glances at him. “You phrased that like a question.” A smirk creeps onto his face. “I’m not cold.”

 

_I can see the goosebumps on your arms, liar,_ Dan thinks. _I’ve seen you shirtless hundreds of times. If you think this is how you’re going to seduce me-_

 

“I made them out of bananas, you know. Only 250 calories for two pancakes. Of course, we’ll probably eat more than that, I know I could eat 20 and still be hungry, but I was feeling creative this morning and instead of doing something useful like script a video I decided to make brunch, and apparently they’re good with toffee sauce but I don’t think we have any, I could pop out and get some? But by then the pancakes would be cold and I think they taste way better hot, don’t you…”

 

Phil doesn’t interrupt his rambling. He should know by now that Dan rambling is a sign of nervousness, he should have stopped Dan mid flow, asked if he was alright, but-

 

_He wants to see me flustered. Bastard. Well, fuck it._

 

Dan twists the ring that’s still on his finger for a few seconds, thinks _let’s fight fire with fire._

 

Phil inhales sharply when Dan places both hands on his shoulders, moves them down to trace down Phil’s stomach.

 

“Your skin’s cold,” Dan says, experimenting with lightly dragging his nails across Phil’s body.

 

“Your hands are warm,” Phil says in response, putting down the spatula and enveloping Dan’s hands in his. He twists his head to look at Dan.

 

“This isn’t right,” Dan whispers.

 

Phil lifts Dan’s hands off his body, turns round to face him. “You still want it, though. I can tell.” He lifts a hand up, trails his thumb gently down Dan’s cheek. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Dan should push him away, run away, eat his feelings, throw up, tell Sasha everything, move out, emigrate, create a new identity, a new life-

 

“If you wanted this, you could have just said,” is what he says, subconsciously moving closer to Phil.

 

“It’s funny,” Phil says, and he’s smiling slightly, “I couldn’t find the words. I find actions are-”

 

Phil’s mouth is on his. Dan grabs onto Phil’s shoulders like a lifeline, pulls him closer, closes his eyes-

 

They break apart too soon.

 

“-easier than words. What do you think?”

 

Dan reaches across Phil, turns the hob off, removes the pancakes from the heat, anything to get a break from that _look_ Phil’s giving him. “She doesn’t have to know?”

 

“She doesn’t have to know,” Phil repeats, and then he’s cupping Dan’s jaw in his hands, and they’re kissing again, and Dan didn’t even know something could be so pure and so sinful at the same time-

 

*

 

It starts with Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder. Innocent enough.

 

It ends with Phil’s hands, his mouth, all over Dan’s naked body.

 

*

 

_There’s no going back now,_ Dan thinks. _I always joked I’d burn in hell._

 

_Now I’ve got company._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I saw Interactive Introverts at the first ever show in Brighton!! I could cry, it was so damn good... It’s also made me realise that I need more UK d&p loving friends, so if you’re from the UK and wanna say hi please (please) hit me up on tumblr, I’m mysticalkoalamiracle! (i swear I’m not a bot I just follow like five people and forget to reblog)


	7. Phil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the hella long wait, I hit a massive wall - this is what happens when you wing every single chapter, kids.
> 
> so my pal americanphancakes suggested I do this chapter from Phil’s POV, and wrote me this long essay about how I’ve misunderstood Phil this whole time and I was like “damn” - annnnnd, 3426 edits later, this is what happened. I hope I did your idea justice, friend!
> 
> (yes, it’s a super short chapter, but I think this is how I might do it? Every few chapters we get a short glimpse into Phil’s POV? Let me know what you think! :)))

**_April_ **

 

(He’d thought he’d loved her.)

 

*

 

Dan and Phil, Dan and Phil, _together_. Not official, not public, not told-the-whole-family, not even told-the-friends, more drop-the-relationship-shit-when-we-leave-the-flat, no-Dan-I-won’t-hold your-hand-if-we-go-outside, I-don’t-care-if-there’s-no-one-here-in-this-park-it’s-too-risky, but _together_.

 

A month of sex, and kisses, and hand holding, and soppy texts when they were sitting right next to each other on the sofa-

 

(texts where Phil said everything but the words Dan must have wanted to hear most)

 

-and cooking breakfast/lunch/dinner together, and actually doing actual exercise together, and showering and bathing and making videos and not telling Sasha/Louise/Chris/PJ - though surely they must of know, surely, him and Dan were so bad at keeping secrets, and didn’t Sasha read the YouTube comments of every video, notice how everyone was screaming at how they looked at each other in _that_ way/ for too long, the way they kept touching each other, couldn’t keep their hands off each other, the smiles, the laughs, how they just looked _in love_?

 

How did they get away with it?

 

And, most importantly, why wasn’t it enough for him?

 

He had Dan - well, almost. Nearly. So close it hurt.

 

...And yet, he still wanted more.

 

But he won’t let himself have it.

 

*

 

“-I’ve done long-distance before you know,” Sasha’s saying, looking at him with such tenderness it’s like Dan’s not even in the room, and maybe she’s just learnt to ignore him, seeing as he’s part of a package deal now: you ask for Phil, and you get both of them.

 

“Five months?” she scoffs. “That’s nothing! And we can Whatsapp and Skype- you won’t even get a chance to miss me!”

 

He expected her to cry.

 

No. He _wanted_ her to cry.

 

Dramatic, yes, but it would have been a sign that she really cared about him. He’s not sure why that’s so important to him, _something-something-big-ego_ , but he knows wanting it must surely make him a bad person.

 

Martyn texted the other day, a **it’s not too late** , a text so weighted that Phil’s surprised the universe didn’t cave in under its meaning, and he just read it and didn’t reply, because what the hell do you say to that?

 

If he starts talking, actually talking about all of this, everything will fall apart.

 

*

 

(Looking back, nothing could ever compare to what he felt for Dan, of course it couldn’t. But he’d learnt to live with those feelings, thought maybe he could replace them, swap them for other feelings, feelings for _her_.

 

At first, it made him a fool. Now, it makes him heartless. He’s hurting her, he’s hurting Dan, and he’s hurting himself-

 

(but what’s new there?))

 

*

“You booked _one_ bed?”

 

Dan’s frozen in their Brighton hotel room, and Phil gives him a look that says “uh, _duh_?”

 

When he speaks, towards the end of each utterance, Dan’s voice rises: “What if someone finds out? What if the cleaning lady is a fan of us and she comes into our room and sees _the_ bed, _singular_ , and tells everyone on the internet? What if someone at the show asks us about the hotel and I say ‘the _bed_ is so uncomfortable’ instead of ‘ _beds_ ’? What then, Phil, what the-”

 

“Are you ashamed of me?”

 

Dan blinks at him, mouth opening and closing. “I- What? _What?_ No, of course not! I love you!”

 

Dan should be asking “Are _you_ ashamed of _me_? Why do I have to be your ‘bit on the side’? Why can’t I be your boyfriend, your official boyfriend, why can’t we tell everyone, why is it always me saying ‘love’, why can’t you end things with Sasha, Phil, why, are you ashamed of me?”

 

-but he doesn’t.

 

And Phil’s not a good enough person to start that conversation himself.

 

*

 

(It’s kind of horrific to admit, but he only sought her out to get his family off his back. Not his parents, not Martyn, but the extended family, who spent most of his Christmas with them muttering about how he always turned up single/ why hadn’t he found anyone at almost 31, why, people get _married_ , _have kids_ earlier than that/ are he and Dan - are he and Dan? No, they can’t be/ yes, they must be, and on and on-

 

It’s simple, really: your little cousin holds in sticky hands an iPad with their favourite YouTuber on (“She’s not boring like you, Phil! She’s like Zoella, she’s a beauty guru, do you know her?”) and your simultaneously-hungover-and-drunk-self decides to message her, and it turns out she’s a fan, and you have one thought, just one thought, and thoughts can be ignored but you don’t ignore this one-

 

_\- what if you started dating her? It’s about time you got into a relationship -_

 

Followed by:

 

_\- and Dan will never love you, it’s time you realised that -_

 

It was like being on the rebound, except he was mourning the loss of something he and Dan had never even fucking had.

 

It was like that film, The Proposal, the one with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds where they fake a relationship so she can get a visa, and then they end up actually falling for each other, and oh it’s so romantic, except with Phil it’s like they’re faking a relationship in the hopes that he will actually fall for her at some point, and it’s a fake relationship but she doesn’t know that, she thinks it’s real, and then a miracle happens, Dan likes him back-

 

\- Dan likes him _back_ -

 

And everything is a mess, and yet he’s never been so happy.

 

But good things can never last, can they?)

*

It had to go wrong at some point.

 

One wrong move, and he loses both of them.

 

If he thinks too hard, too long, about it, it chills him to the bone, scares the shit out of him.

 

For now, though? Him and Dan were dancing with death, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how does this change your view of Phil? Let me know in the comments! And say hi on tumblr at mysticalkoalamiracle! I don’t bite! :))


	8. Coward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry in advance…

**_April_ **

 

Exhilaration.

 

He spends the days high as fuck, fuelled by a combination of sheer adrenaline and _love_ , pure love.

 

Love for their fans, love for his life, this crazy fucking life, love for, most of all, Phil.  

 

Chris keeps warning him about Phil every time they talk, so Dan starts “missing” calls.

 

If he stood back and took a look at himself, he wouldn’t like what he was turning into. But it’s like him and Phil are in their own little world.

 

Nothing can hurt him.

 

*

 

“You deserve better,” Phil says quietly one night, in their hotel room of-the-moment.

 

Dan’s half asleep, barely hears what he says, thinks little of it.

 

So what if Phil’s probably right? Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good, and all that.

 

Later he’d realise Phil was giving him a chance - a chance to get out, before he-

 

Nevermind. Dan was just late.

 

Too late.

 

*

 

“Sasha’s in Seattle,” Dan announces over breakfast a few days later, in yet another hotel. He’d been browsing Instagram when he saw her post.

 

“Yeah. She’s going for a role. TV series, I think. Crime.”

 

“Is it a big role?”

 

Phil nods, swallows a bite of toast. “If the series gets past the pilot, then it will be. You know American TV. They don’t know when to quit. She’ll be 85 and still playing that character.”

 

“Well, good for her,” Dan says. “Did you wish her good luck?”

 

Phil looks offended. “Of course!”

 

“Maybe she’ll fall in love with one of her co-stars.” The unspoken rest of the sentence hangs in the air between them: “and then you don’t have to break up with her.”

 

There’s no reply. Phil just keeps eating his toast.

 

*

 

They’re six shows down, about to start the seventh, when Dan gets a call from Chris. He takes the call, dread pooling in his stomach, expecting to get, well, _called out_ , for his behaviour, but instead he gets-

 

“Guess who’s in the audience!”

 

“Uh, I, wha-”

 

“Meeeee! You won’t recognise me through, I’m wearing a mask of your face. Wouldn’t want to steal your limelight by being recognised by my one remaining fan, you see.”

 

“You’re... better? And you’re here? In Newcastle?”

 

“He’s out of hospital?” Phil mouths at Dan, who shrugs with wide eyes.

 

“Better… pfft… ‘better’ is so subjective, don’t you think?” Chris says, and Dan can’t read his tone. “This ticket was bloody expensive, you better be good.”

 

Dan tries for humour. “Just don’t kill yourself during our performance, even if we are crap. I don’t want to get billed for the cleanup and all the kids needing lifelong therapy.”

 

“I’d do in a non-messy way, Howell. I’ve researched this shit, you know.”

 

“I-”

 

“Kidding! Well- I’m not - but don’t feel bad. See you in ten minutes!”

 

And he hangs up.

 

Dan and Phil stare at each other for a moment.

 

Then, as they say, the show must go on.

 

*

 

“I’m not really one for morality,” Chris begins, picking up a burger even bigger than his huge hands, “but has it occurred to you guys that you’re being complete _dicks_?”

 

Phil glowers at him.

 

Dan hesitates. “You don’t understand,” he says.

 

Chris holds his gaze. “No. I guess I don’t.” A pause. “I should probably tell her what’s-”

 

“Uh?” Chris says, looking down at the hand that’s clamped itself on his shoulder, and then up at Phil. “Ow? You’re hurting me?”

 

“Don’t tell her,” Phil says, his voice low and dangerous, and Dan can see the muscles in his arm squeezing his hand tighter. “You can’t tell her. It’d tear her apart.”

 

“Phil, you’re scaring me,” Dan says quietly, and Phil looks up at him, seems to shake himself out of it. He lets go of Chris.

 

Chris looks back at Dan.

 

“He didn’t mean it,” Dan says.

 

“Sorry,” Phil mutters, avoiding both their eyes. “I just-”

 

“I get it,” Chris says, after a beat. “You’ve dug yourself in too deep. You’re scared. But this can’t go on.”

 

“I know,” Phil says, surprising the everloving fuck out of Dan. Then he gets up, goes to the bathroom.

 

Dan and Chris look at each other in shock.

 

“Maybe he’ll get his shit together after all,” Chris muses.

 

Dan sends a silent prayer up to the Heavens that he does.

 

*

 

“Martyn called me,” Phil says later.

 

“Oh,” Dan says.

 

“I love you.”

 

Phil says it. He _says_ it. He says it he says it he says-

 

But why does he look so sad?

 

“What did Martyn say to you?”

 

Phil just shakes his head.

 

Dan doesn’t press him. He doesn’t want to hurt Phil.

 

A decision that’ll come back to _hurt_ him.

  


*

 

One uneventful - apart from the usual tour/exploring the country/sex stuff - week later, Dan gets a phone call.

 

“It’s Phil,” Martyn says, and there’s panic in his voice. “He’s planning on doing something fucking stupid.”

 

Dan tries to hide his own simmering panic. Visions of Phil overdosing like Chris flash through his mind. But Phil wouldn’t, he didn’t, he-

 

“Like?” he chokes out. “Martyn?” Dan says, when there’s just silence. “Like _what_?”

 

“He had a conversation with Mum. And she told me what he said, thinking she was sharing good news. I- Sasha, she got the role. The one in Seattle. She’s moving there. And Phil, he’s-”

 

“No,” Dan says. “No, no he’s not, no, I-”

 

“-he’s going with her. Dan, I-” Silence. “Dan? Dan? Are you still there?”

 

“Why?” Dan whispers. “What about us - ‘us’ in the professional sense? What about our careers?”

 

(It hurts too much to think about ‘us’ in the romantic, lovers, boyfriends sense, Dan and Phil, Dan and Phil _together_ , Dan thinking that they’d had something. Clearly he was wrong.)

 

Martyn seems to read Dan’s thoughts. “I told him he wasn’t good enough for you.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

So what if sometimes Dan has had that thought himself? He’s still horrified.

 

“I did it to try and get him to treat you better, Dan! Not go and leave you! I-”

 

A sigh. Martyn sounds so confused, so lost. “I don’t understand what he’s doing. But talk to him. You can stop him. Make this right.”

 

“I can’t,” Dan whispers. “I don’t know how.”

 

“Sure you can, I know you can!”

 

Dan ends the call, knowing it’s rude but not giving a shit, lays back on the empty-of Phil-bed. (Phil had gone to get breakfast without him - Dan wasn’t feeling hungry.)

 

He’s such a fool. He should have known that people like him didn’t get a chance to be happy, not _real_ happiness.

 

Martyn seemed to think he could fix things, though. Talk some sense into Phil.

 

And say _what_?

 

“I know you don’t treat me right, but stay with me, I love you”?

 

Or something more like: “I want to be with you. But I deserve more respect. Break up with her. We can work on this. _Together_ ”?

 

He has to find the words. They can’t end like this.

 

They can’t.

 

If Phil leaves, there will be no Dan left.

 

Just a body that looks like him, but has no love in its eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone get a certain reference in that last conversation? If you weren’t too shocked by its content to get it! 
> 
> Shoutout to my friend isleofbants for helping me with this! Go check out her fic!
> 
> (also wow two chapters uploaded in less than a month? In the same week? Am I feeling OK?)


End file.
